


Contrition

by Troublesome_monkey_sama



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Death, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9179077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Troublesome_monkey_sama/pseuds/Troublesome_monkey_sama
Summary: "Once she wakes, he would get the chance to make things right once more. Once she wakes, they shall talk. And he would say he's sorry, and call himself an idiot, a selfish brute, an unworthy cretin undeserving of her. And he'll gather her into his arms and implore her to never stray again." If he keeps repeating this mantra in his head, maybe, just maybe it might come true.





	1. Waver

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, Troublesome_Monkey_sama signing in! Honestly, I should be focusing my imagination on two unfinished fanfics right now. However, this idea kept me awake for weeks now. I'm not sure why. Actually, I was never a fan of this franchise, but I did find this particular couple endearingly cute. So anyway, I hope to finish this fanfiction quickly so I can focus on those that I neglected.
> 
> Disclaimer: Well, fanfiction implies, I own nothing regarding this franchise and its affiliates. I am merely here because I wish to write (not well, I might add) and enjoy myself.

Ciel Phantomhive has always thought his fiancée was cute. There really was no real reason to believe otherwise. Elizabeth Midford had always, always been cute. Her face was adored by many, as it was an impeccable design outlining the beauty of her mother and layered with all the tenderness that the Marchioness lacked. The covers of frills she insists on wearing had always been immaculately designed to enhance the ever cherubic attitude that she possessed. Ciel was almost sure Lizzy was forever caught in a bubble of cuteness, a place perhaps that was painted with happiness and warmth that he often cringed away. Yes, Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford, had always been considered cute.

And there were many times that Ciel had detested her for it.

At the youthful age of five, a very pretty Lizzy had learned that Ciel could never really refuse her. She found that there was a certain way she had managed to shape her face that would send the Young Earl in a frenzy of confusion, delight, and hot hot embarrassment. She wasn't quite sure what 'face' she would make, but she learned that a crinkle of her nose, doeful emerald eyes, and that certain pout had all but sent the lad toppling back in agreement to whatever her ridiculous demand would be. And so, as cunning as any toddler could manage, she had fully equipped this certain 'face' to her repertoire for later use.

And now, ten years later, she employed the same look on her childhood fiancé. She had hoped, perhaps in desperation, that it would be enough to coax the Young Earl away from his business for a small amount of time to unwind. She had fretted over the teen, who she found scribbling away on his desk, amidst towers of unsorted papers, pamphlets, and books. According to Sebastian, Ciel had been working through the night and had sent the sulking butler away after repeated attempts to make him rest.

"Well, that's all fine," she had said to Sebastian, "I shall draw him out." She had sent the Butler away to the market and run some errands in town, as she resolved to slip into the irate teen's office to lure him out with kind words and that certain 'face' of hers. She supposed that her method was crude, cliché, and quite ineffective given the certain circumstances. Ciel was as hard headed as she, conceivably more so when it came to his work. Ciel had demanded perfection and Funtom had operated on this basis alone.

Still, she must try, because that is her purpose. "Come now Ciel," she cooed out from where she stood. "The company will not be demolished in a day. Surely you could spare a few hours of rest." She was sorely tempted to add, "You look horrendous as it is." But, she kept to herself as she knew stroking a man's ego was better than challenging it. Even though Ciel would never admit it, he was sensitive with his appearance. While the two have finally breezed through puberty, gaining all the happy surprises that it offered, Ciel had managed to gain height but none of the weight. It had only cemented his visage as a sickly teen, sorely lacking in muscles and firmness. Quietly, she noted the present dark circles that outlined his tired blue eyes. He was paler than usual, she thought distastefully to herself. The ragged hair and rumpled attire was doing little to improve the stapled scowl marring her handsome beloved's face.

To her surprise, the flicker of anger had appeared in Ciel's irritated visage. He only spared a glance before returning to the paperwork on hand, hands furiously shuffling papers together in a mess his tired brain could only manage to understand. "Ciel," Lizzy began once more. Finally, she had edged closer, a firm hand placing itself on his right shoulder, "please."

"Later Lizzy," his clipped voice rasped out. He cleared it momentarily, irritation bubbling once he found his throat was painfully dry. He almost pushed Lizzy away as he reached for the pitcher of water and gulped down a glass quickly before passing her as he stretched his legs and strode over to a pile of books near his bookshelf. "In the meantime, I'd rather you go to the study and...read." He put a little more thought on what he thought Lizzy actually did if he was busy, but he found he couldn't think of any source of entertainment well worth enough for his bubbly fiancée.

Once he turned to her, a selected book on hand, he merely handed it to her and went on with his business. Lizzy took it silently, an unreadable expression on her face as she scanned a thick Book of Fairytales. One hand traced the cover mindlessly, her calm expression suddenly laced with insult. "Ciel," she drawled out slowly, "I'd rather you be in bed." She placed the book on his desk steadily, staring back at her beloved with a steely expression. "Or Perhaps you would enjoy a hot bath before bed?" She couldn't help muse out jokingly, "And I could even read these Fairytales to coax you to sleep. Wouldn't that be nice?"

She was hardly prepared for what came. There was a sharp sting on her left cheek and she stumbled back in surprise as the force had suddenly overcome her balance. Shaking hands placed themselves over her pain, and widened eyes openly stared at their source. "C-ciel!?" she yelped out quickly. Ciel was standing, right hand already bought up high, as if to slap her once more. She stared, openly horrified at his expression, before shouting, "Ciel Stop!" She could only brace herself once more once she spotted the fast movement of his hand. "Ciel!"

And Ciel willed his hands to stop. He wasn't sure what was happening now. He wasn't sure what had come over him. What was happening? The sudden realization dawned on his face and he bought his hand down, eyes wide with surprise and worry. "I-" he started out before choking. "I didn't..."

That was the moment when Lizzy finally broke. The look of betrayal flashed across her face and she pressed her hand harder against her throbbing cheek as she narrowed her tear stained eyes at him. Her delicate mouth and twisted into a scowl, lips pursing as she held back tears. Never, not once, had Ciel ever hit her. Not once. Until now. This time, there was no Sebastian to stop him.

She finally let out a whimper.

Arms engulfed her tiny frame then. She couldn't help but flinch at the action, half expecting Ciel to continue his rampage and push her away from his office with the strength he suddenly gained. But arms, held her tightly where she was, and she only heard Ciel sigh against her ear. Silently, she allowed herself to cry, accepting perhaps the hard fact that Ciel was having a hard time apologizing to her.

And Ciel was. It was never in his nature to openly apologize, as he had often acted with purpose and direction. Yet, as of this moment, he was abnormally confused. He was irritated, increasingly so, by just about everything. He found faults in his paperwork, that practically had him wanting to dispose of the cluster with an inferno of ashes and gunpowder. He found that the pang of hunger, thirst, and lack of sleep was finally hammering away at his disposition. And God forgive him, he found that his adorable and loving fiancée's presence was stifling and displeasing at the moment.

"I sound selfish," he thought to himself, as he bought the weeping Lizzy closer against him. "God, I'm selfish." He held tight on the girl that was now the source of his ever increasing irritation. He wasn't sure why he was so openly hostile with her at the moment. Even at his weakest, he had never faulted his fiancée before. So why now?

Critical eyes scanned her tear-stained face and he couldn't help but grow even more concerned as he felt the growing pool of irritation wash over his stomach like a wave. Why? Why was he so irritated at her? Why did her petty comment send him over the edge so quickly? Why did her sudden appearance warrant his desire to cringe away from her in annoyance? Why does her crying face suddenly inspire him to push away and scoff at her weakness? Why was he so...

"Ciel...," Lizzy's voice hitched near his ear. She pressed herself close to his chest, forehead pressed against the curve of his neck, and she silently held tight on the small of his back. "Do you hate me?"

Rage filled him then. Ciel was suddenly caught in a flurry of irritation, anger, displeasure, and pure unadulterated hatred. Arms held tight on the tense girl in his arms and he wrenched his face away to examine her. Why was he even with a woman like this? This one was so...she was so emotional, so broken, so pathetically weak? She, who basked in the sunny laughter of a colorful world, felt nothing for those who silently suffered away in the background. Why he did he bother feeling concern for a woman who felt that vanity was more important? Why did he tolerate and respect her when she held no respect to principles of organization, professionalism, and perfection? Why did he -

He stopped himself then and untangled away from her. These thoughts were dangerous now. He was too irritated to think clearly. He was too distraught to act properly. All he knew now was the anger and irritation he had felt towards the sharks he was dealing with was now wrongfully directed at his wonderful, adorable, loving fiancée. And here she was, upset and betrayed, asking of questions that he neither had the energy nor the brain cells to answer properly.

"Lizzy...," he trailed off tiredly. Tongue - tied and beyond any measure of wisdom or clarity, he merely sighed and nodded securely. He loved her. Of course he did. Who did not love Lizzy? Wearily, he watched as she blubbered for a moment before offering a handkerchief he forgot was shoved in his breast pocket.

"B...b-but if you love me...then why did you...?"

There it was again. The sudden bout of irritation that was rising from the pit of his stomach. It washed over him before he could stumble back and recover. Why was she even daft enough to question his love? He had practically showered her with everything she could possibly want. He had tolerated her presence since the fateful agreement six months ago that she would continue to live the remainder of the summer in his Manor in order for the 'lovebirds' to understand the 'responsibilities of raising a proper home together.' He had tolerated her daft ideas, followed her ridiculous requests, and she dare question his faithfulness to her?!

Silently, menacingly, Ciel caught himself sneering at her. "What do you think?" he growled back before he could clamp his mouth shut. He had barely enough time to think before he found Lizzy had bolted away, throwing open his office door and scampering off in wretched sobs.

Fuck.

"What did you do...?" he released a panic breath. He stared at the shaking hand that had, upon reflex, reached out for her. He found it was starting to throb and his panic doubled. "What the hell did you do?!"

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What do you mean she's not here!?" Ciel roared at the cowering servants, "She has to be here! Search again!" He sent Meyrin, Baldroy, and Finnian in a panic, legs and arms colliding in a jumble of confusion as they ran to and fro searching for the lost Lizzy. Ciel was seething were he stood, hand wrapped firmly on the wooden banister of the stairs, eyes scanning and brain thinking of endless possibilities. His lips were curled tightly into a frown so deep, Sebastian was sure it was sutured on by Grell himself.

A critical eye studied his young master and Sebastian subtly came to the conclusion that was obvious from the start. "Lady Elizabeth is not here Young Master," he announced with all the obvious tact of an amused demon. "Perhaps she's gone to home to visit her mother."

Ciel merely shot him a look, daring him to say more. He was well aware of that amused smirk that suddenly played around the demon's lips. Sebastian had a certain air about him. One that suggested he was well aware of what had ensued between the quarrelling love birds. While it was distressing to find Elizabeth had fled to god-knows-where, the amusement of finding his young master radiating waves of panic, irritation, and overbearing worry was enough for him to enjoy watching. It was delicious to watch.

"Then get off your damned lazy demonic behind and bring her back!" He spat venomously, one hand gripping the wooden banister tightly, he was sure he causing splinters of wood to press themselves against his exposed skin. With his jaw tightened like vice grip, he sauntered off to the safety of his bedroom, narrowingly dodging the open office door. He glanced briefly at the mess he left behind before muttering darkly under his breath. It was as if a behemoth had paraded around the room, throwing stacks of documents on the floor like confetti and throwing books and ornaments as though it were practicing darts with both eyes closed. All the hard work Ciel had done in the last few days were destroyed by anger, violence, and black ink. However, at the moment, Ciel could hardly care less.

And it bothered him more than he would care to admit. Work had always been a priority. It was hard work that had given him the life he led to today and it was hard work that gave him the unbridled privilege to call himself the Queen's Watch dog. It was hard work that gave him the chance to thwart his enemies. And it was thwarted by a silly five foot four, petite girl who spewed out colorful rainbows and flowers as if they were merely second nature. It was insulting really, how suddenly, all the hard work he had put into his career was quickly demolished by a bouncing ditzy blonde in a corset. All because she chose to run off god-knows-where doing god-knows-what with god-knows-who, without so much as sparing a word to anyone.

It revolted Ciel even more to realize how utterly lost he felt without her presence, when just a few months ago, he barely saw her. He didn't quite understand the sudden stigma he felt for Elizabeth. She was a constant presence in his life, he knew, and not once had he felt any sort of romantic attraction to her. Yet, it was frustrating to suddenly feel the attacks of panic, worry, and anger that bubbled in him like a cauldron overflowing with stew. Simply because she suddenly wasn't there.

"Well," resolved his deathly tired mind as he dropped himself onto his bed, "you shall see her later. And you will give her a piece of your mind." He calmed himself on his thought, letting it seep through his combusted, panicked, aching heart until it managed to soothe his wounds for the time being. And slowly, but surely, his eyes drooped until he fell into a restless sleep.

"Young Master, young master, please wake up." Ciel was roused awake by Sebastian's sudden intrusion. Grumbling, he noted that the butler had not bothered with using any small sense of proper decorum to wake him and chose to rouse him awake by simply shaking his shoulder has hard as he can without damaging him. Ciel wanted nothing more but to smack the demon butler back straight on his perfectly shallow face until it was bruised and bleeding. He was in deep slumber, he could tell, and was so close to catching that delightful transition into a restful, pleasant dream. That is until Sebastian had ripped him from his rightfully deserved slumber.

"What?!" he hissed out like a disgruntled cat, "What do you want now!?" A quick glance to the window indicated that it wasn't even close to dawn yet and while he understood that Sebastian thrived on staying active during the witching hours, he was hardly in the position to be awake after such a tiring day.

It was only until he cleared his dazed vision did he notice the hard, grim look that Sebastian had firmly stapled on his face. He watched Ciel almost wearily, as if he wasn't sure whether or not he might pounce like feral beast at any moment. It was then when he remembered what he had sent the demon to do. The spike of adrenaline pumped its way into his system so quickly, Ciel had enough energy to bolt upright and turn to his butler with all the focus he could muster. In his gut, he felt the coiling of worry, regret, distress, and anger burn once more as he remembered about his fiancée. "Lizzy, where is she? Is she here now?!"

He didn't even wait for Sebastian to answer as he pushed himself away from his cocoon of warmth and into the dark, cold hallway. Shivering slightly, he straightened himself up as he sauntered off to the opposite wing where Lizzy's room was, all the while practicing what he could say. He pointedly ignored Sebastian's constant calling as he walked off. He would say he's sorry, he resolved in his mind like a clockwork. He'll call himself an idiot, a selfish brute, an unworthy cretin undeserving of her. He'll call himself whatever she may believe he is and beg for her forgiveness. And he'll gather her into his arms and implore her to never stray again. To never leave so quickly, so suddenly, so heartbreakingly fast that he couldn't catch her. And he'll set rules, because that's what he thinks they need. They need rules to abide by to avoid all these unwanted fighting. Yes, rules. They'll talk about it. They'll talk about it all night if they have to.

Ciel manages to gather his wits once he reaches the end of the hallway where Lizzy's room was, only to note that it was quite odd that there was no light beyond the door. Lizzy enjoyed reading before she went to bed and would always keep a light close. Nevertheless, he resolved to enter. So, he gathered his breath and braced himself before knocking and entering.

"Lizzy, I-" he stopped short once he was greeted by utter darkness. The light had spilled into the room slowly, illuminating an empty bed. And all the air left Ciel's lungs, until the panic replaced it with such force he took a large step back and shouted, "Sebastian! Where is -"

"Young master," he heard Sebastian call out to him carefully. He was behind him, standing too close for comfort that Ciel was forced to take a tentative step forward. Sebastian placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and Ciel shivered upon contact. No, this was not the touch he wanted to feel tonight.

"Where is she?" Ciel asked. "She must be at her mothers. Didn't want to come back did she?" That's alright, he resolved to himself. Lizzy is stubborn as a mule. He imagined she had fought tooth and nail with Sebastian insisting she wouldn't come back. It was just like her. And that's alright. Because come morning, he'll dress his best. He'll go the Midfords and they shall talk. And he would say he's sorry, and call himself an idiot, a selfish brute, an unworthy cretin undeserving of her. And he'll gather her into his arms and implore her to never stray again. And they'll -

"Young Master, there's been an accident." Sebastian whispered softly to him. "You need to come at once."


	2. Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Troublesome_monkey_sama signing in! Chapter two is on the way, so let's get this sucker started. And, I apologize in advance more making some of you readers cry. The last time I delved into sad events, I've gotten so many reviews saying I've made them cry it was almost worrisome. So I apologize in advance and I hope I don't sound arrogant in believing I can make people cry. I don't mean that either. Anyway, read on readers and thank you for continuing this fanfic.

Ciel couldn't breathe. No matter how much air he sucked in, it was as if his lungs refused to expand any further. So he breathed, short shallow respirations, as his mind recounts to him all he has done wrong. It is a sin to breathe, he says to himself; it is a sin to inhale the air into his body when Lizzy cannot. He cannot take in long, deep breaths as he watches poor, sweet Lizzy lay in bed quietly, chest barely rising. Is it rising? Is it moving? Is Lizzy even breathing? He stares, daring not to blink, until he recognizes the familiar pattern of movement on Lizzy's chest. It's small, unnoticeable at first, but it is there. She's breathing. And he can't, his mind screams, he can't take all the air for his selfish body. She needs it. She needs to keep breathing that delicious air. She needs to. She has to.

He's despondent now as he sits beside her lifeless form. There's been an accident they say. He could barely wrap his mind around the details the Marchioness had explained to him. He arrived there in record time, drenched in rain water and mud, panting like a dog as he climbed the steps towards Lizzy's room. His aunt took him aside before he entered and explained it to him carefully. There's been a carriage accident. Another carriage collided with Lizzy's carraige. It was probably due to the rain and mud, they say. The passengers of the colliding carriage had died upon impact. Lizzy was the only one who survived. She's lucky. She's very lucky.

But Lizzy doesn't look lucky to Ciel. As he sat on his velvet chair beside her, he peered down at a lifeless woman, bruised, bleeding, and pale. She's so pale, it scares him. Some areas of her skin looks bludgeoned, as though she had been beaten blue and purple. The skin is raw and swollen, tethered as though it was stretched far too much. She's covered in bandages and he was sure she has more beneath her simple white dress robe. He couldn't bear to look upon her battered face. Lizzy, whose porcelain face was adored by many, was scarred. One half of her face remained untouched, unmarred and lifeless. The other was a mess of cuts and swollen bruises, with makeshift bandages wrapped firmly around her forehead to staunch the bleeding. The blood was what scared Ciel the most. It was so red, so fresh, so much. Too much.

There's too much happening that Ciel isn't sure he can handle it. He feels inadequate as he stares down at her, feeling selfish he was unharmed and knowing he couldn't do a thing to help her. This can't be his Lizzy. She can't be the one lying her deathbed. Why did it have to be her? Why couldn't be any other bloody carriage? There's thousands of carriages in London! Why her? Why is it always her!? He feels anger for this whole situation. He feels angry at himself for so many things. He let her run away from him. He made her upset enough to run away from him, into that damn carriage that would do nothing but harm her pretty little soul. He was the reason she cried. He had the audacity to hit her, to smack her around as if she was nothing. He allowed her to believe that she wasn't loved. It was him. He was at fault. It was his fault. He did it.

"I...Liz...," her name died in his throat before he could utter them. His throat feels dry and itchy, as though he drank acid. It was as if a cruel vice grip had taken his throat and squeezed it shut. The hopeless feeling he's been trying to diminish for the better half of the hour finally takes hold of his form and he breaks down into bitter tears. He feels undeserving to even all her by her pet name anymore. Because look at what he's done to his sweet Lizzy. She's broken.

And he feels selfish to wish that she were awake to embrace him as he grieved. He had always found comfort in her warm arms and this time, she wasn't there to embrace him. So, he takes hold of her small, pale, inert hand and presses it against his feverish cheek. "Elizabeth...," he whimpers out slowly, "I'm s-sorry. I...god...I'm so sorry. Please Elizabeth...please." And feels himself break even more at her silence as he buries his face into her palm.

She's so cold. Her hand is so cold, he realizes. Lizzy was never cold. She always had very warm hands. She had warm, comforting, hands that would always brush the hair away from his face. Slowly, he placed a tentative kiss on her fingers as he sobbed quietly. The pale digits were cold against his lips, so much so that he took hold of her precious hand and began to rub them warm. Because cold was never a good sign. Cold meant lack of blood, of circulation, of life. Cold meant Lizzy was straying further and further away from him.

"No!" he found himself crying out as he gripped her hand against him. She would never stray away again. Never. He wouldn't let it happen. He couldn't let it happen. Not again. Never again.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sebastian finds him curled against Lizzy an hour later. He's shivering as he presses himself against her. He's given up trying to warm her with just his hands. He's piled five blankets atop her body in a poor attempt to insulate the heat. In desperation he's even torn apart the book of stories he's gifted her on her fourteenth birthday as fast kindling for a fire. It's alright. He argued to himself because he would simply buy her a better one when she's better. He would buy her a library if she wished. Yet, he found that she simply was not warm enough. So, he strips himself of his wet clothes, borrows an old pair of Edward's night clothes, and presses himself against her as best he can without hurting her. He holds her gently, afraid she would shatter in his grasp, and stares unblinking at her rising and sinking of her chest. He sincerely, desperately hopes the body heat would be enough to keep her warm. That he would be helpful enough to keep her warm.

All the while, he bites his bottom lip as he buries his face into the crook of her neck. He's too afraid to doze off, to even move. If Lizzy were conscious she would surely be crying in pain. He might be hurting her without knowing it. And it kills him to think that he's doing more damage than good. But he feels comforted to be close to her, to be of some help to her. He feels comfort in feeling the dips of her breathing and hearing the small sighs the escape her lips. It means she's alive. She's here. She's with him. And he could not derive anymore comfort than he could from the mere fact that he managed to keep her from straying too far away.

He doesn't hear Sebastian come in, as he stares forlornly at her slumbering face. He earnestly believes she'll wake up soon and when she does, he'll be there. He'll beg for her forgiveness. He'll tell her he loves her. He'll call himself an idiot, a selfish brute, an unworthy cretin undeserving of her. And he'll gather her into his arms and implore her to never stray again. And they'll set rules for each other. And they'll be happy. And -

"Young master," Sebastian finally says. He watches Ciel with an utterly amused and impish look, as though he's beginning to see something absolutely beautiful. Ciel merely throws him another dirty look and snuggles closer to Lizzy, pulling the covers further up to cover her shoulders thoroughly. "May I suggest you rest for a few hours? Paula would certainly not mind watching Lady Elizabeth while you-"

"No!" Ciel cries sharply as he molds himself against Lizzy's slumbering form. Slowly, Lizzy's head lolls to the side as he presses his face closer to her neck. "No! I'll stay with Lizzy! I need to be here! I need to stay here!"

"Young Master..."

"I'll take care of Lizzy!" Ciel resolves through gritted teeth. He tries his best to hold back the flood of tears gathering in the corner of his eyes and he grits out, "I won't leave. Not again. Just let me be, Sebastian...let me be." Slowly he shuts his eyes and presses a small kiss against the crook of Lizzy's exposed neck. Shaking his head, Sebastian merely sighs as he watches the pitiful form of his master cling harder against the broken girl. With another impish look, he turned and walked away.

He was sure Ciel would spend the evening watching Lizzy; Rejoicing every breath, reliving every fear, and clinging harder than he ever did before.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ciel. Wake up." Ciel jerked awake, startled and too confused as he gingerly wraps himself closer to Lizzy's slumbering form. He's disoriented now as he takes his surroundings, dazed eyes wandering across the lighted room in pure dismay. It's too light. Why was there so much sunlight? He catches eye of the Marchioness, standing over him like a looming shadow. Blinking, he watches as his aunt's stern expression soften, only for a moment, as she gently places her hand on his shoulder. "You need to get up Ciel. The doctor is here to see Lizzy."

And she helps him sit up, practically heaving up upright as gently as possible. Confused as he was, he merely blinks and stares at her. What was happening here? Why is this happening? How is the Marchioness even here? He couldn't remember a time when the Marchioness was ever this gentle with anything. It was as though she was handling the Queen's jewels in her palm, cradling it so frightfully gentle it was hardly the touch of the woman he came to call his fiancée's mother. "Come now Ciel, stretch up." Mutely, he follows her orders as he gained some bearing and heaved himself into a standing position.

As though caring for a toddler, she placed both hands on his shoulders and guided him slowly to the door. "While the doctor examines Lizzy, you should freshen up in the guest bed-" She was cut short but the sudden jerk Ciel made as he stopped short from where he stood. Finally, with sluggish body moving enough blood into his bewildered mind, he realized the implications of her sudden intrusion. So, with clarity grasped, the adrenaline spiked his senses enough for him to start feeling the frays of panic seep into his being. "No!" he cried out, hoarse and cracked. "I...no...Elizabeth...I must stay and -"

Swiftly he turned his heel and made a bee line for Lizzy's bed, the sanctum where he lay for a day now in solitude. This was his place. He wouldn't wander away unless death itself grasped him on his ankles. However, the Marchioness quickly grasped him on the arm and turned him around before he could making landing. The stern expression that she was well known for was plastered on her face, steel eyes scrutinizing him for every inch he was worth. And Ciel felt himself shrink.

He could barely meet her gaze with his own, only managing to utter out gasps of small air as he whimpered out, "L-let me stay please. I need...Elizabeth...she needs to...I-I...please." If his mind were clear, he would have kicked himself for ever speaking so meekly. Ciel Phantomphive was not one to openly show weakness, especially to a woman who ordered perfection just by her mere presence. In a way, he and his aunt were very much alike in their own crude little way. The two were sticklers for discipline, for command, for perfection. Their work ethic was followed strictly and the two have always respected each other for that. It was for that reason, it was shameful enough to act so incredibly, stupendously broken. For acting broken was a weakness neither could afford.

And it was shameful still, to act so incredibly lost in the presence of Lizzy's own mother. While his relationship with Lizzy has been a confusing bundle of emotions, he knew it would never compare to the love of a mother for their child. Nothing could ever compare. So, he cast his gaze downwards, even avoiding the swoosh of the Marchioness's dress close to his feet. He couldn't bring himself to look closer for fear of seeing that look of betrayal and hatred flash through the Marchioness's face. This whole mess was his fault. It was his duty to protect Elizabeth. He promised his aunt that he would. He promised that he had the strength, the courage, the love to protect her daughter. And he didn't. It was his fault. And everyone knew that. Everyone knew that he -

"Ciel Phantomhive, take a bath at once. I will not allow you disgrace your father, my brother, with your filthy appearance. Goodness child!" she exclaimed as she brushed away his bangs, "These wretched things need to be tamed!" Unconsciously perhaps, Ciel sighed as he closed his eyes, relishing the soft touch of the Marchioness's nimble fingers. Her fingers were more calloused than Lizzy was, from years of work as both a wife and a fighter perhaps, but it was indescribably the same as Lizzy's touch. If he could just close his eyes, he could almost convince himself that it was her. And as pathetic as it might be, he was desperate enough to believe in anything; Even if it was a fleeting touch.

When he opened his eyes, the Marchioness was simply staring back at him, hand on his head like his father had done many years ago. Francis Midford was almost tempted to draw the boy into to a long hug, if it were to help that helpless look that had taken form on her nephew's face. She had meant every word she said when she mentioned his extremely filthy degrading look, but she knew that a simple fix in appearance would simply mask the look of nakedness he put up. So, as she gently patted his head, she sighed and said, "Ciel, Lizzy will make a smooth recovery. Do not forsake her own strength simply because of the appearance she shows. She is a strong woman Ciel. I made sure of it."

And finally, he cracked open his eyes, red and swollen before pitifully sniveling. He couldn't help it. Every sense of control he had slipped through his fingers during the night. It was in the darkness where he found himself suddenly lurching forward into a dark, lonely, miserable abyss of hate, anger, and anguish that it left him sobbing against Elizabeth for support. It had been years when he felt this repressed. He was sure he buried those feelings long ago, reassuring himself that finally, he had an ally that could fight away all of his demons. But Sebastian cannot fight away the clutches of the darkness himself. He was an entity that even a demon could not contain. He was an entity that was merely a subservient spectator, coming in the aid of dark creatures only when he feels like. And this time, he had lingered with Ciel and Lizzy for so long, Ciel no longer had to strength to fight back.

"I'm...I'm sorry. It was m-my fault that Elizabeth...," he managed to claw out from his irritated throat. Clearing it briefly, he forced himself to look up at Francis who merely stared at him with an unreadable expression. It was neither friendly nor malicious. But it was the face that Ciel feared most of all. He would rather that she blame him, that she forsake his existence and scorn him. He would take it all, allow it to sink and accept it. But this, this silence was harder. Silence meant so many many things. And for Ciel, silence was one of his worst enemies. "If only I could have stopped her," he finally said, "If we didn't fight...Elizabeth w-would be..."

"Do not bother yourself with problems you could not have controlled," the Marchioness finally said. It was stiff and commanding, but had the air of care and gentleness that surprised Ciel. There was no tone of betrayal or hatred in her voice, which indicated she found Ciel remotely the cause of her daughter's suffering. And it bothered Ciel more than he cared to tell her. He wanted nothing more but to be punished for his crimes. Punishment was what he deserved.

"But I-"

"Excuse me," an old croaky voice and interrupted their exchange. They turned to find a fatherly looking old man, dressed impeccably with a black bag is hand. The doctor made a small bow in introduction, eyes crinkling into a smile as he greeted them with a warm grin, "Terribly sorry to interrupt, but it would be best if I promptly examine the girl." He indicated to the slumbering Lizzy, pale and bruised as ever.

And everything else fell through for Ciel, once his attention had been directed back to his fiancee. As Francis's hands slipped away to welcome the doctor, he gingerly made his way back to the chair next to her and sat there despondently. His mind buzzed with questions, weary eyes gazing at the doctor in utter desperation. He sincerely hoped that the doctor would simply give them medicine and assure than that Lizzy was fine. That she would recover and be her bubbly happy, adorable self in no time. So he bit his lip nervously, tucking his feet underneath him and leaned closer as he watched the doctor work.

He could tell that the doctor had a critical eye, light sapphire eyes working its way down the body for a physical assessment. He touched here and there, looking at wounds and stitches, bruises and cuts, occasionally muttering to himself as he went on. And finally he stood up straight, placing the blankets back to their original position. Before he could even begin to talk, Ciel had pounced upon him with questions. "Is she alright? Is she safe? When will she wake up? When will she recover? Will she -"

He stopped short when Francis's hand placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. The doctor took this as a sign to start talking, so he did as he rummaged for paper to write on. "First, these bandages need to be changed regularly. We cannot afford to risk an infection. Superficially, most of her wounds are alright. They will fade with time. Take care they are not strained for the cuts may reopen. The impact to her chest may make it hard for her to breathe so keep her airway open." Briefly he went on about the importance of positioning her. Ciel had hung on to every word, asking brief questions for clarification and even more just to calm his own nerves.

It was until he touched upon the head injury did the doctor suddenly withdraw slightly as he assessed the facts. "The trauma on her head is the most worrisome fact," the doctor went on to say. And for the life of him, Ciel couldn't help but feel the sudden fear that swallowed him whole. There is a certain stigma about doctors. People cannot help but fear and respect them for their craft. And if a doctor would carefully choose the words "worrisome" and "head trauma" there was certainly a great deal of agonize about. And as he dwells further and further into those words, he feels the panic double in his heart. It spikes more and more, until he feels the palpitations of his chest. So he closes his eyes to gain his bearings. It simply isn't the time to feel the stirrings of panic now when there were more pressing issues to discuss. But as his eyes welcome him to the darkness, he could not help but feel hyperaware of his body state. The palpitations of his heart is louder, pressing faster and faster against his ribs until he realizes that he's drawing raggedy breaths. The short respirations turn into wheezes and he notices in alarm that his cold clammy fingers are frozen in time, curled so disgustingly he can't seem to unfurl them at all. What was happening to him?!

"Ciel?!" he hears the Marchioness exclaim, "Ciel!?" Her voice is so far away and he can't concentrate enough to listen to her rambling. Blinking, his eyes are wide and his stare directs itself to the sleeping girl across from him. And as though is vision wills it, he suddenly sees the sharp intake of breath she takes before she slowly releases it out. And he waits for her to take another. He keeps on waiting, longer still and he realizes with a jolt of adrenaline that she does not. And he screams, ripping himself away from the chair so quickly that he feels the chair slap itself backwards in his hurry.

"Breathe!" he exclaims, "Breathe!' His vision tunnels as he leans over, pushing the blankets away with such haste that it fall in a heap against the doctor's feet. He places both shaking hands on her shoulders and practically shakes her where she lays pleading her to take in air. He's tries his best to recall what to do in this situation only to realize he had no clue. How do you help someone that stops breathing? What do you do!? What!? What!? What!? The bout of hopelessness he feels makes him shake her even harder. Perhaps he hopes the movement will jolt her, allowing her to take in air again.

"Ciel stop it! You're hurting her!" He's not even sure who pulls him away. He only feels the flurry of hands push him back, further away from Lizzy. Disoriented, he suddenly hears the screaming, only to realize that it is his own. It's rough and broken, until he doubles over in sudden realization that he can't breathe either. He feels his body cough and hack, wheezing and whining until he sees the darkness slowly eat away his vision. Finally, it spirals away and he drops to the ground lungs burning. Gasping, he curls into a small ball, ragged pants getting louder and louder still. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. And he stops, hacking has hard as he can, before he realizes with a shock that he can't take in air anymore. He's drowning.

"Ciel!"

He feels the soft touch of his aunt's hands support his head and he could not help but crack a smile as his eyes close. Finally, he might have repented for his actions.

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Ciel wakes a day later, beaten and groggy. For a long moment, he forgets. He forgets about Lizzy, he forgets about his despair, and he forgets about everything. As he lies there, he idly wonders what the agenda today is and when will Sebastian wake him for a cup of Earl Grey. He is up for a cup of jasmine today though. Slowly, he opens his eyes and the sudden confusion takes him. Staring up at the ceiling, he wonders idly why it was painted a sky blue. It was the sort of blue Lizzy would wear on a dress. In fact, it was the sort of blue she wore recently.

The sudden realization comes to him later and he bolts out of bed feeling foolish and distraught. He feels stupid and sluggish all of a sudden. Clumsily, he stumbled on the white sheets as he struggled to get up, only to realize that he hadn't left Lizzy's room at all. Swiftly, he claimed the space on her side, critical eyes watching her as she breathed with ease. Slowly, he released the covers he didn't knew he even held and breathed out a sigh of relief. It's alright. She's okay. She's breathing. She's breathing. She's breathing.

The mantra was repeated over and over again in his head until he found himself muttering it under his breath. Decidedly ignoring the rising heartbeat and perspiration, he leaned back on his knees in silent prayer. It wasn't as if he was praying to anything, having forsaken God many years ago, but he thanked whatever divine entity had allowed Lizzy to live on. Still in a kneeling position, he slowly placed his forehead into his arms and tried to regain his breathing. He wasn't sure why, but he neither felt refreshed nor calm despite the amount of sleep and good news he received. He still felt so utterly starved, as though he was still drowning.

"Oh, Earl Phantomhive! You're awake!" Paula's light cheery voice cut through his melancholy for a brief moment. He raised his head to find her pushing a cart into the room. "I've bought your meal. Sebastian insisted he cook since he knew how to take your tea and food. " She uncovered the steaming food, impeccable and delicious as always. With a small grin, she said, "Sebastian should be up shortly. He's off doing an errand for the Marchioness! And I'm here to feed Lady Elizabeth you see! So, you might as well eat as I-"

Curiously, Ciel stood up to see what Paula would do. An irrational part of him refused to leave the room in fear that Paula would inexplicitly murder Lizzy outright simply by smothering her with a pillow. He knew it was irrational as Paula loved Lizzy as her own litter sister and had many times thrown herself backwards and forwards to protect and satisfy any of her whimsical demands. Still, the fear that had taken his heart had not left and Ciel was more than content sitting on the adjacent bed nursing a cup of tea. He briefly kept note of the spare bed that somehow manifested itself in his brief absence and he gathered they must have pitied him enough to allow him to stay close to Lizzy by placing a bed close to hers. All he could do now is appreciate their gesture.

Silently, he watched as Paula carefully placed Lizzy in a sitting position, with her upper body leaning against the headboard of the bed in a forty five degree slant. Paula fluffed the pillows gently and brushed Lizzy's hair back. She pulled the cart closer to her and began to feed the girl warm broth, slowly dripping inside her partially opened mouth. It was time consuming and carefully done, to the point it was almost maddening. Lizzy certainly was able to swallow enough, but her body would often gag and choke the fluid out. It would lead to Paula dribbling down liquid in smaller amounts to avoid any more aspiration. However, after perhaps an hour or so, Ciel noticed with dismay that the broth was only finished half way. It was even more troubling to note that the bowl was small, hardly three gulps of soup for him alone.

He only moved to eat once Paula had finally finished feeding the poor girl. It was then when he noticed the worry lines that were showing on Paula's face as she gently wiped away any excess fluid. Catching his eye, Paula had started to talk out of nervousness and frustration. "Hopefully Lady Elizabeth would wake soon. It's unhealthy to just feed her broth and water all day. It's not enough to sustain a growing girl like her! The doctor gave us supplements that would give her vitamins and minerals she may need, but - oh! It's not enough!" she cried out. She allowed Lizzy to stay in that position for a few minutes as she cleared everything away. "Oh! Sir, you haven't eaten! I'm terribly sorry! I'll serve your food right away. Should I cut your toast? Butter your bread?"

"It's alright Paula," Ciel whispered as he watched Lizzy's serene face. The swelling was going down, he was sure. The bruises had settled into a hue of blue and violet, but he was sure that would fade eventually. The bleeding had been stopped and he noted that she needed to change the bandages soon.

He resolved to do it himself when Paula added, "While you eat, I shall give Lady Elizabeth a sponge bath and change her bandages and clothes. So sir, if you don't mind..." she trailed off almost afraid to finish the sentence. She wasn't quite sure how Ciel would react, being asked to leave the room. He hasn't left the room in days and even the Marchioness thought it was best for his own sake that he stay close to Lizzy. Sebastian was ordered to go forth and carry some personal items Ciel may need while he stayed and the bed was promptly placed beside Lizzy's own bed. It was a compromise that was so shocking that Edward had fought tooth and nail against it. However, his input was merely discarded once the Marchioness had talked to her husband who had promptly agreed to allow the set up.

Paul now watched as Ciel had suddenly withdrawn, silent and moody with weathered eyes watching her closely. She felt probed, as though Ciel was expecting the worst to happen from her. And while he could understand his concern, she certainly felt that she was more than capable of caring for Lizzy in her time of need. After all, she was the one who always cared for Lizzy as a child. So she stayed in her place, staring back and waiting for his response. For once, Ciel had a level enough head to consider and think.

And finally, with a small sigh as he finished his cup of tea, Ciel withdrew and said, "I'll take my own bath in the bathroom then. Do you mind Paula?" He indicated to the open door near the corner that led to Lizzy's own private bathroom. Paul immediately jumped at the chance and nodded quickly.

"Of course Lord Phantomhive! Do you want me to draw your bath sir? It should just take a moment, I'll just -"

"No need Paula," the smooth voice behind her answered. She turned to find Sebastian, with two buckets of steaming water at hand. "I bought enough water for Lady Elizabeth and the Young Master. For now, young master follow me." He beckoned Ciel over to the bathroom, shooing him inside as he briefly acquainted Ciel with the set up. Ciel's necessities were neatly placed in a corner and Sebastian went to hang his prepared garments. Ciel barely listened, choosing instead to take in Lizzy's bathroom. It was a medium sized room, full of varnished wood and painted with pastel colors. All in all, it gave of an elegant yet welcoming aura, which Ciel could learn to appreciate. It was Lizzy's space after all. Briefly, he could close his eyes and just sniff in the perfume that seemed to have seeped into the furniture. It smelled distinctly of Lizzy, a mixture of honeysuckle and vanilla. Yet it lacked an aspect of her that Ciel couldn't help but miss.

"Young master," Sebastian called carefully. Critically, he watched the disheveled teen take everything in as though he were visiting an ancient monument. Biting back an amused smirk, he carefully led the boy through the motions. He wondered briefly whether he might have to actually help the boy take a bath, a task he had not done in years. However, as Ciel lingered more and more among Elizabeth's belongings, briefly caressing linens and miscellaneous objects, he could only sigh as he pulled the lad forward. If Ciel were in the correct state of mind, he would have flushed at the foolishness he was displaying now. "Young master, strip down please."

"What?"

Sebastian sighed. This is a task worthy of an audience indeed.

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Ciel went through mindless motions for the rest of the day until the next. In that time, Paula and he worked in tandem, doing their best to heal their precious lady. It was almost clockwork really, the waking, the breakfast, the bath, the bandaging, the everything in between. He didn't even bother with frivolities anymore as he eased Lizzy into a side position. It was recommended that she be turned every two hours to avoid pressure ulcers. However, due to her injuries, the process was painfully slow. Still, Ciel had done it by himself so many times it was almost insulting to let anyone else do it. He learned to trust Paula enough, but he always kept a keen eye on her movements. Because people make mistakes, people are lazy, people aren't perfect.

He spent the rest of his days waiting, staring listless for hours it would seem. He wasn't quite sure how he managed to just watch and wait, but he accomplished the task with ease it was surprising. And in that time, he learned to live with the constant worry that brushed through his system like clockwork. It would torment him worst at night when he's alone with the poor girl. It was at night when his worst fears would manifest it would seem. It was at night when he realizes that Lizzy's breathing would be more labored because of the chill. It was at night when he would gain such rapt attention that every miniscule breathe, sigh, and muscle twitch would be recorded and over analyzed. It would bounce to and fro in his mind until he would turn increasingly more paranoid.

That's what the rest of the members would call him now; Paranoid. In the dead of night, Edward would often visit before he would retire to bed. Few insulting statements would be thrown his way, all of which Ciel would merely accept in silence, before Edward would sit across from him in another chair and recount his day. He said that it was a tradition for Lizzy and he to exchange their daily stories, ever since they were children. "It keeps her close," Edward said smiling gently at his little sister. After an hour, he would leave bidding farewell. He would always cast a fleeting glance back at him, an unreadable face always criticizing and analyzing as he leaves. Ciel isn't sure whether or not it is done out of distain or pity. Finally, he came to the conclusion that it is both.

In the end, it matters very little to him. All that matters now is Lizzy. Once she wakes, he would get the chance to make things right once more. Once she wakes, they shall talk. And he would say he's sorry, and call himself an idiot, a selfish brute, an unworthy cretin undeserving of her. And he'll gather her into his arms and implore her to never stray again. And he will marry her come spring, on her birthday. And they'll be happy. She'll be beautiful, he will be complete.

He runs through his list every hour, adding and retouching, scrutinize and directing, until he's satisfied of his plan for the time being. He's almost sure he's got it down to a science, mulling things over until he can recount sentences as though he's rehearsed for a play. He was sure his tongue can twist and turn eloquent words he's recounted and reviewed, confident he knew what to do. He was sure of his actions. Now, all he needed was for her to awaken.

So, he presses his cheek against her pale, cold hand as he watches her sleep. "Wake up soon Elizabeth. Please..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this will be a long author's note. Please bear with me.
> 
> First, I would like to thank all of your wonderful readers for reviewing, following, and even reading my little fanfic. Thank you very much, from the bottom of my heart. For the wonderful reader, stardere, thank you for the long and refreshing review. I know what you mean when you said fics tend to be rushed, but I have to say I tend to rush as well, especially in this chapter (even if it is six thousand plus words). Anyway, I intend for this to be about four or five chapters, depending on the ending I want. I'm not sure as of yet. We shall see, I suppose.
> 
> Second, I have to admit. I struggled so much with this chapter. I didn't know how to adequately address any of the current emotions that Ciel was having because I thankfully did not experience the type of loss that he has. I mean, I have lost loved ones but not one that I was intimately, romantically involved with, you know what I mean? So, I had to base my experience from other sources.
> 
> Perhaps the irony of this was, most of the way Ciel reacted was how I observed my grandmother reacting when my grandfather died in a motorcycle accident. That struggle was what I tried to remember and convey, but as you guys may have noticed, I could not get into Ciel's head the way I did the first chapter. It was impossible for me. The other experiences I had and did manage to incorporate were ones like taking care of patients, panic/anxiety attacks, depression, etc.
> 
> So, in short, yes. It was an absolute struggle to try to convey that. And I realize, the next oncoming chapters will be so much harder. So much. Well we shall see what happens. Now then, once again, thank you very much for reading! R & R please! I would love to hear your input on this chapter as this is the hardest chapter I had to write as of yet.
> 
> And Happy New Years! I hope this new year shall bless all of you with wonders.  
> Troublesome_Monkey_sama signing out!


	3. Disconnect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Troublesome_monkey_sama signing in! Okay, chapter three. Please bear with me. This will be quite long, and I'm not entirely sure if it is mostly needed. I believe the way I envisioned this story was a snippet of dreams I meshed together until it was cohesive enough to write a story. So, really, I'm not sure if I meshed it correctly. I have this inkling feeling that I didn't, but I'll leave you readers to decide and tell me your views. Once again, thank you for reading and enjoy!

Dreams are fickle little things. They are figments and fractures of random nothingness, as though a snippet of short movies were displayed in a nonsensical fashion. People believe dreams have meanings, that they are a metaphorical symbol of people's life. Dreams are fantastic in that they have a distinct ability to drive people into a spectrum of human emotion. But, Ciel finds dreams almost ridiculous. They're fleeting little things, speckled with redundancy and lunacy that is forgotten long before he could even bother to stretch his limbs.

It is in dreams that Ciel finds he has a certain degree of control, something so inherent in his life now he finds it natural enough to have in his dreams. Because, why not? These are his dreams after all. Often he found that if he concentrated enough, they were the perfect atmosphere to scheme large scale operations. After all, the stretches of human imagination have no barriers and the laws of dreams are the perfect medium to plan. It is in dreams that schemes and epiphanies are sewn.

However, there are certain nights, when demons haunt him, where Ciel cannot grasp the control he seeks. And he is left floundering almost, a confused spectator to a scene that neither makes sense nor need any bit of analysis. Before he even makes sense of it, he finds himself in that exact situation. He's not sure how or why, but he sure that he is dreaming. So he opens his eyes. He is immediately bombarded as his vision sways, to and fro, flashes of colorful light blaring until he closes his eyes and waits for the myriad of lights of to stop. And abruptly it does, as darkness its place.

Tentatively, he opens them again and blinks, trying to clear the orbs of flashing lights that irritate his vision. He's staring at nothing it seems. It is a void of night, dark and silent. For a moment he's tempted to call out for someone. Immediately, he dismisses that ridiculous notion because he's consciously aware he is merely dreaming. He somehow always is. He's just not sure when he would awaken. So, he allows himself to dwell and take around the nothingness around him. It remains dark, a blanket of night with little stars. It is eerie really, how pitch black it is.

"This is ridiculous," he mutters out only to find to his great surprise that his voice sounds murky. "Wh-what?" His voice was merely an echo, as though he was underwater. It was almost unstable really, how his voice moaned and sighed as he spoke, pitch and vibrato off tune it merely sounded like fleeting whispers and groans. "Why is my-"

Something passes him quickly, too quick for him to make out what it was. It is a shape, humanoid at best, striding forward so gracefully and swiftly Ciel barely had time to blink before it had dissipated into the darkness. And the bombardment began. A myriad of humanoid figures whisked past, all too dark for him to identify, moving so quickly he could only catch of glimpse of their silhouette. They were abnormally loud, obnoxious and chattering away about redundant and particularly ridiculous topics.

"That dress in the Millers' shop-"

"Benjamin! Stay still you insolent-"

"I want-"

"They were so-"

"Did you-"

Loud. They were too loud. Almost bracing himself, Ciel felt his head erupt into a throbbing migraine as the passing crowd seemed to get even louder. He almost flinched as the passing conundrum seemed to choose the exact moment to scream their thoughts aloud all at once. The confusing jumble of words and sounds only increased the anxiety that was threatening to bubble in his gut. The alarming number overwhelmed him enough to sway in his feet, feeling too bombarded and overpowered to gain his balance. Why were they even screaming? What are they doing here? What is happening?!

Then he heard it. It was merely a whisper of but his keen ears managed to capture it. "Ciel!" Lizzy's sweet voice slithered into his ears like molten gold. "Where did you go?" It was followed a soft laugh, so silent and subdued Ciel strained his head to hear more.

"Lizzy?"

Blindly, he turned a full thirty six degrees trying to find the source of her voice. It seemed to resonate everywhere, making him even more frustrated where he stood. He couldn't pinpoint her location when her voice echoed every which way. The shrieking crowd seemed to grow louder and louder still, until all Ciel could do was choose to tune them out as best he can. "Lizzy!" he called out as loud as he can, head twisting and turning every which way he could turn. "Where are you?"

"Ciel," a small disappointed Lizzy answered back, "can't you at least answer me? Ciel?"

Confused, Ciel called out once more. He stepped forward into a general direction, only to bump against the passing figurines who seemed incessant in getting on his way. "Lizzy, I'm right here! Hold on! I'm coming! Where are you!?"

He didn't think it were possible but Lizzy managed to sound even softer still. Her voice was so distant now, Ciel could only catch her answer if he stayed still and closed his eyes. Selective hearing be damned. Even with all of his might, he couldn't hear all of her words. The noise, it was too much. It kept on bouncing about him, an echo of hissing and shrieking, drowning out the wonderfully soft voice of his own beloved. "Ciel, I miss you...but...never...and...I thought...Ciel?" Her voice seemed to trail off into nothing and Ciel's eyes snapped open.

There was silence.

The crowd had suddenly stopped their activity, as though frozen in time Staring like a gapping fish, he took in his silent surroundings hesitantly. The silence was abnormal. Unconsciously, Ciel began to shiver as he looked around. The silhouettes remained as they were, frozen in activity, all rushing past him. It was only then when Ciel noticed they were all heading in the same general direction. Without thought or reason, Ciel began to walk forward into that direction. Because it could be where Lizzy went. It could be where Lizzy is. It could be where -

"Ciel." Lizzy's voice had stabbed through him like iron. It was louder now, the loudest it had ever been. And to his surprise, her voice was laced with such venom it was almost unrecognizable. Almost.

"Lizzy?" Blinking, he stared past the towering crowd of dark silhouettes in the distance and caught a glimpse of golden hair weave pass. He didn't even know he had taken off in that direction, until he felt the unmistakable ache of lactic acid build up in his muscles. Groaning, he stopped his sudden sprint to catch his breath. He was never a physical man, being frail and lanky as a child. He had grown into a firmer body, but not one of impressive physical shape. Cursing under his breath, he cursed is own sickly body as he bent over, resting sweaty hands on his knees in exhaustion.

Wild eyes roamed the vicinity, trying to catch the glimpse of gold he had seen. Lizzy was so close, she was so close. Where the hell was she!? She was just -

Something clasped itself on to him, a hard vice grip of ice cold claws covering his face with such a frenzy, he was caught off guard. He barely had the time to gasp out when the hard grip clasped over his mouth so hard he was sure his lips were bleeding. In panic he struggled against the sudden weight against his back, cold and firm, tightening every second as he moved. Like a curling anaconda, the form curled around him until he was immobilized. Gasping for air, he managed to scream out, "Seb...astian! St-stop them!"

It was almost a reflex really, how easily he turned to the demon butler for help. He wasn't even sure if the butler was even there to begin with, but that didn't stop him from seeking his strength. When it became evident that Sebastian was not pressed, he pressed hard against his assailant, hoping to slide free from his gasp enough to wound him and run. He's done it before, he can certainly pull it off again. He just...he just needed more strength. More determination. More -

"You stupid girl!" Slacking against his captor, Ciel could only watch with widening eyes as two figures crept closer to them. The two silhouettes battled each other, each punching and kicking until one - the more petite and feminine out - finally succumbed and slumped on the floor sobbing. Ciel swallowed, feeling the bubbles of trepidation release inside him like a wave. Oh, he knew that cry. Oh god, he knew that cry. It can't be her. "Liz...zy," he groaned out, his murky whisper drowned out by her shrieking. The feminine form curled into a ball, trying vainly to block herself as the towering form above her started to kick her like a ball.

"No!" Ciel screamed as he tried his best to free himself from his captor. He could feel his fingers start to bleed as he tried to twist and claw his form away, only to be squeezed harder. But, it all didn't matter. Because Lizzy needed his help. Lizzy need him there. He had to get to her. He had to. "Lizzy!"

Terrified, he watched as the kicking figure finally stilled, staring at the shivering mess on the floor before he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled. Squealing, Ciel watched the girl struggle against his grip, hands in a flurry trying to free herself from the pain. She twisted and rolled as the figure began to drag them his way.

Flincing, Ciel could only let out a small moan as his captor squeezed him harder until he was sure one of his ribbed cracked under the pressure. The pain finally settled somehow and he felt it bloom from his chest so quickly, he was left a coughing mess. Each cough sent a ripple of sharp throbbing to his head, until he felt the pressure build in his own head. Gasping, Ciel could only watch as the two struggling figures finally stepped close enough to be seen.

It was another him, dragging a petrified sobbing Lizzy behind him like a sack of potatoes. The absolute panic swept him then, bubbling so quickly in his gut, he was seized with the horrific realization that this stranger that took his visage was with Lizzy. There was a stranger, a horribly accurate looking stranger with a wicked grin, who was dragging his pitiful princess closer to him. Who was this man!? Surely it couldn't be him, because he was here. He was here, so who was he!? Who was this man who dared to hurt Lizzy in such a cruel, vile, vicious way!? Who was this guy!? Who was he!?

The figures didn't seem to notice his own predicament for they merely passed, three feet away from his position, as though he was a wall. Mouth agape in horror, Ciel could only watch mutely as this figure seemed to pause for a minute as he pulled the girl harshly. Lizzy was left almost like a floundering fish on the floor, dignity and beauty all stripped away, as she shrieked and groaned in misery. She looked beaten into submission, dripping in blood and painted in bruises. Ciel shook his head in response. No, no, no. This isn't Lizzy. This can't be her. She can't be here. She's not the woman who was being dragged by a man who looked like himself. It wasn't real. It can't be.

Finally, she spoke. So softly, so beautifully, it was heartwrenching. "Why Ciel!?" she shot the man above her such a vile and poisonous look, it made Ciel shiver despite his predicament. All the pain he felt suddenly dissipated, only replaced with emptiness. She had spoken his name with such conviction, such sureness. Her voice broke as she begged her own tormenter, demanding what she had done to deserve this. It was laced with such heartbreak, such a feeling of betrayal; Ciel had the heart to almost look away. But he couldn't.

"What...what did I ever d-do to you!?" Lizzy continued to demand as the figure tugged on her hair even tighter. She squealed as she was dragged across the floor another two feet. "I love you Ciel!" she hiccuped as she fought against her captor's grip. "I love you! S-so...so much! Pl..please! St-stop it!"

Yes, please. Please stop it. Please. If Ciel could speak with clarity, he would have gotten to his knees and begged this doppelganger to stop his assault. He couldn't bear it anymore. He couldn't bear to watch Lizzy suffer any longer and he couldn't even help. It was an unbearable thought really, to feel helpless as you watched your loved ones suffer. Except, this was the irony of his life it seemed. Because Ciel always had to watch his loved ones suffer. It was his fate.

"You foolish twit," his clone suddenly spoke. It was eerie, how alike he sounded. Every note, rhythm, and pitch that made Ciel Phatomphive's voice seemed to have been copied by this doppelganger. Even the way he turned, cold and distant, was like how Ciel carried himself. It was eerie. But, Ciel tried to convince himself, it wasn't him. Because here he was, right in front of them. He was the one trapped, he was not the one torturing Lizzy, he was the spectator. "I have never loved you," the voice continued on, making Ciel choke suddenly. "You have been nothing more than a mindless distraction. A burden." He spat it out with such ferocity that Lizzy shrank where she lay.

"You..I...you can't...mean that," she tumbled out so quietly it broke Ciel's heart, "You can't..."

The clone merely sneered at her as he scoffed. Finally letting go, he stood above her, arms folded in as he watched her grovel underneath him. A satisfied smirk bloomed in his face as Lizzy sniveled, trying to crawl up, only for her arms to fail her. And for that split second, he had glanced Ciel's way, before finally sneering, "You disgust me."

It took all of Ciel's strength to fight back, finally thrashing as hard as he can against his captor. The adrenaline that had been pumping inside him had finally started to rush back, allowing him to break apart the captor's grip for that one second to tear his arms away from the figure. Like a howling demon, Ciel had snarled as he clawed his way closer to the doppelganger. It took only a mere seconds for his form to be subdued again, once his captor had caught him midway, curling around him so tightly he was sure he had broken more bones. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but wringing this bastard's neck.

The hate that had soared inside him was unbelievable. Ciel was familiar with such an emotion, always harboring it inside him like smoking volcano, but it had never once threatened to spill over so dangerously. It was terrifying how it came with such ferocity. How, so suddenly he was well aware of the flexing of his muscles as the thrashed about, trying to fight of his captor. He was suddenly so hyperaware of his breathing, whining and sighing as his body tried to catch air. He was aware of his beating heart, a fast vicious drum in his ears as the blood rushed into his head like a tsunami. He was aware of Lizzy's soft weeping, a beacon of inspiration for his wrath. He was so hyperaware of his sudden lust for spilt blood, even if it were his own face he was to destroy. Because in the end it didn't matter. This bastard had gone too far.

"You bastard!" he cried out with such venomous animosity it was almost spectacular, "this is your fault! Get over here you -"

The figure had pressed itself closer still, until he felt a cold breeze brush his left ear. Like water dowsing a burning flame, Sebastian's voice had suddenly crawled into his ear. "On the contrary Young Master, this is entirely fault."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ciel was slapped awake, a hard calloused hand hitting him to hard that his head he snapped back into a whiplash. His mouth had been agape and Ciel had let out choking sounds as he fought for air. In a frenzy, he looked about only to find Edward standing over him with a candle aloft. He looked half tempted to drop the candle on the squirming boy, wondering idly whether or not he would catch on fire. Edward watched as Ciel shot up, shivering and sweating so profusely he almost felt pity for the lad. Ciel had been sweating bullets, tears leaking out from wide eyes as he curled himself into a sitting fetal position. He took in shaky breaths and Edward wondered if he would even survive the night. The noises he made as he breathed, like a whining string pulled taut, almost sounded life threatening.

"You were having a nightmare," Edward stated so bluntly it was almost humorous. For a moment, he watched Ciel relax as he tried to gain his sanity. He almost didn't hear Edward as he blindly turned to his left to find Lizzy sleeping away, neither bleeding nor sobbing as he had seen. He was suddenly quite thankful he had pushed the beds together so he could sleep next to her. Because right now, all he wanted to be was be next to her. He let out a small croak, suddenly aware that his voice was strained. He must have been screaming aloud. Whimpering, he reached for Lizzy's hand, cold and limp as before, and bought it to his lips.

He kissed it for a brief moment as both his shivering hands pressed her hand against her cheek. Sighing, almost in content as he tried to calm himself, he peered at her sleeping form and whispered, "I love you." He kissed her hand again and again, each time proclaiming the same thing. "I-I'm sorry...god, please I'm sorry. It's my fault. Please, I...I... I love you. Please...I love you..."

Edward, a mere spectator at this point, could only watch in concern. He wasn't sure whether he should have ripped the man away in fear that he was gripping Lizzy's hand too tightly or merely sigh and begrudgingly accept it. He almost felt like an awkward invader, as though he had stumbled upon something that did not remotely concern him. But of course, this does concern him as this was the welfare of his own beloved little sister. Still, he felt as though he had over used his stay. Thus, like a quiet shadow he crept away, all the while watching as the scene unfolded.

It was almost comical, if the situation wasn't so damning. In the doorway he watched as Ciel almost folded over himself, kneeling close to Lizzy's body as he chanted his mantra. This Ciel looked so defeated, so unbelievably different from the proud Phantomhive he was use to talking to. Ciel had always exuded enough confidence when speaking to him. He had always chosen his words carefully, with such fine diction and importance that Edward always had that inkling feeling to smack the boy away from Lizzy before she swooned. Yet, here he was shivering in a pool of his own sweat. It was a damning visage really, how freely he allowed himself to break in front of Edward. Perhaps because, this time, he didn't care.

Edward watched, with an almost critical stare, as Ciel finally curled around his little sister like a lifeline. He was whispering something to her, something he couldn't hear anymore. If the situation were any different, he would have ripped them apart before Ciel could even have to chance to utter a word. He was quite sure that Lizzy would be fine, the doctor and his mother had extensively assured him that, but he couldn't quite grasp why Ciel had a particularly hard time accepting this fact. He had clung even harder on the girl, a hovering and depressing shadow. It was peculiar, even for him.

And so, silently he slipped of the room, muttering about indecencies and proper decorum, before he noticed he had company. Sebastian, the ever so loyal butler, was leaning against the wall adjacent to the door. In the moonlight, he merely looked like a shadow, dark and omniscient as he stared at the window across from them. For a moment, they said nothing to each other as they listened to the silence.

The moonlight had spilled through the glass, illuminating the dark hallway enough for Edward to navigate through the hallway without the need for a light. Edward took in the expanse of the hallway, large and spacious, decorated in paintings and rugs imported from India and Nepal. It was dreary, void of the usual pastel colors, but unusually sorrowful for a reason he could not understand. And for that brief moment, Edward merely sighed and turned away as he made it down the hallway.

He almost turned the corner before his nerves finally stopped him. The curiosity got in the way and he turned back to the haunty butler, whose gaze was transfixed on the moon outside. "You should enter and comfort him," he finally said. "He's..." he stopped for a moment as he racked his brain to search for the correct word. What is the perfect word to describe Ciel Phantomhive now? Depressed? Miserable? Pathetic? Suspicious? Yes, he was all of this. But there was a certain word, one that was absolutely Ciel Phatomhive. "He's...he's unhinged," he finally concluded. "He needs help."

And from his position, he could have sworn the butler had scowled so harshly it was almost terrifying before his face had turned to him with a soft smile. "What he needs now is time." He had said it with such certainty; Edward was almost tempted to prod around for more answers. However, something in his throat had stopped him and he merely nodded his head and walked away. As he meandered down the end of the hall, his mind buzzed with too many questions. He was almost tempted to turn his heel and ask the dark butler once more. Time for what exactly?

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the fourth day since the accident when Ciel begins talking. He had mostly kept quiet until that point, reassuring himself that once she woke up, they will talk. And he would say he's sorry, and call himself an idiot, a selfish brute, an unworthy cretin undeserving of her. And he'll gather her into his arms and implore her to never stray again. And he will marry her come spring, on her birthday. And they'll be happy. She'll be content, he will be complete.

Not once had he ever thought of any other possibility because it simply doesn't exist in his reality. But, suddenly, the seeds of doubt were planted last night and he couldn't help but feel impatient. There was this urge, this urge to start talking with the obscure hope that maybe, just maybe she's still listening to him. Maybe, in her slumber, she can hear him and his pleas and she would awaken. And even in her slumber, she will know that he's right there, next to her.

So, he begins to talk. It's a minute in detail really as he whispered in a cracked, broken little voice about his day. He doesn't have much to talk about, he found out quickly, merely because his day was spent here tending to her needs. So, he racks his brains to tell her something else, only to find he's not sure what to tell her. Talking excessively was not his forte, it had always been hers. While she may have to gift of storytelling, he was not rewarded with such a skill. So he stumbled for a few hours, searching and prodding what to say to her.

It becomes natural after two more hours, when he is left rambling about the weather. He's describes it quite bluntly as he stares outside the window. It's quite cloudy today, the clouds are gray, the sun is barely peaking out, and it's windy. Not a horrible windy, the kind that is good enough to ruffle the hair but feel soothing. It's still quite warm out there. The trees are swaying outside, leaves singing as the wind rush passes them. The summer is ending soon though. Soon it will be fall. When will the leaves turn colors I wonder? Of course, he receives no reply, but he carries on anyway until he's skipping to another topic.

He settles for the description of the room. He's sure that Lizzy would like to know what changes they have made in her absence. Your pinks are gone, he says brusquely as he stares around. The color motif is blue and beiges, undoubtedly handpicked by her mother. They stored most of our things inside the glass cabinets, except the plush toys. Your bunny, the present I gave you, it's right next to your head. He stares at his gift for a second and adds, "Edward calls it childish." And as if he's found another appealing topic, he begins to talk about Edward and his little visits in the night.

"But I suppose you hear him talking to you every night right?" he asks offhandedly as he glances at her. Like every other time, she stays silent and Ciel cannot help but wonder whether or not he's being utterly foolish talking to a comatose woman. He falls silent for a second, gaze drawn to the floor as his mind wanders. While he has placed all of his faith in the mere hope that sometime soon she will awaken and she could in fact hear him as she slept, there was a shadow of uncertainty that he could not dispel. Try as he might, there was always doubt planted so firmly in his life. He could not prove or disprove that Lizzy does in fact hear every word he utters and will continue to remember and cherish it when she awakens. And, he's not quite sure what to do with this shadow of doubt.

There are times when he's forced to accept it. He merely allows himself to swallow the bitter truth, as much as he detests its presence. So he is left in melancholia, drawing himself in as he assess the truth with all the bitterness and despair he could possibly draw forth. There were times when he wonders why in the world it always happened to him. How in all of god's creation it was as if he was personally singled out and beaten with a stick labeled trials and tribulations. Yes, he understands that every human goes through obstacles and why yes, he is a selfish little dolt who is wallowing in self pity. Still, he cannot help but continue on this maelstrom, because why the hell is it always him? Why does he get stuck dealing with loss after another, seeing loved ones ripped away so suddenly he cannot grasp any form of fairness in it. He doesn't understand why it must involve so many loved ones, people who he cherishes beyond a measure of his own life. He can't comprehend how any divine force in the universe could allow such grief to happen to those who do not deserve it. Because, while he may deserve every punishment thrown at him, he cannot tolerate it when others are involved. They shouldn't be. Why the hell are they?! It's not fair. But then again, life was never fair.

Then there are times when his defiant mind could not simply process any other reality than what he expects. He fully expects Lizzy to awaken, like a fairy tale princess woken by a kiss, confused and demure but so amazingly alive. She would smile and tell him that she heard him, that she loves him too, and that she wants their relationship to change for the better. And she'll regain her strength and he will be her pillar of support. And all things will the right in the world. This is the reality he had set up for himself he simply cannot stomach anything else that deviates from this beautiful vision. In his mind he knew he was setting himself up for disaster because nothing every goes according to plan so flawlessly. Yet, he clings into his plan because he never had such a startling amount of hope coursing through him until now. Because this was going to happen, he knew it was. It had to.

But then again, there were also times where he fully wanted to throw his head back and just curse all of existence. Curse all of this abomination of a life. Curse this ridiculous, petty little disgusting mentality of his. Curse Lizzy for being such an important person. Curse that damn carraige for throwing of course. Curse everything because they exist. He knows that it's completely foolish to do but all he wanted to do now was to close his eyes and will himself to stop thinking. While almost impossible, he sometimes wishes that he couldn't feel emotion because they were confusing and terrifying to deal with. He wishes he could just turn his cheek and let everything fly away from his life. He just wanted to scream at everything to leave him the hell alone. Because everything was just too damn much.

"If you were awake Lizzy," he murmured as he relaxed into his chair, "you would call me silly and throw a party. That sounds like you doesn't it?" He turns to Lizzy for a moment before eyeing the time. Two hours have passed without his knowledge. Quietly, he stands from his seat and returns to Lizzy's side. As though he was handling fragile glass, he carefully turns her to the side, positioning her into a more comfortable position. The doctor suggested she should be turned every two hours to prevent pressure ulcers. He quickly noted that in an hour he should call Paula so they may start her passive exercises. It was good to keep her muscles moving and keep blood circulating. And then he'll -

"Young master," a soft velvet voice called from the doctor. Ciel didn't need to look up to see Sebastian enter the room. He had practically left the butler to his own devices for the time being, managing the business and making sure that the house wouldn't be decimated by the servants. He had checked up on him every hour or so, keeping a close eye on the boy like a predator does their victim. Ciel could hardly care less at the moment though, choosing to occupy his time with more fruitful ventures.

It was peculiar however, that Sebastian had not once tried to aid him in caring Lizzy. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was more than a little scorned with the little fight they had in the manor and thought this would be damning enough of a punishment for the lad to do alone. Perhaps he was more than preoccupied dealing with the Queen's demands and running the business to oversee an ailing girl. Or perhaps he was more than a bit disgusted with the pitiful display Ciel had shown over the last week. Whatever his reason may be, the butler had been pathetically absent during this ordeal. But Ciel could not find it in his heart to ask the butler for help because what could he do really? Demons do not heal, not without a price.

He was never once completely comfortable leaving the demon alone with Elizabeth simply because it was the stuff of nightmares. Who in their right mind would leave a beautiful, overly trusting woman in the hands of a monster? He had read more than enough books to know how that story ended. But of course, he snorted to himself, who was to say that she was safe from him to begin with? He was a monster in his own right.

"What do you want?" Ciel snapped as he tucked Lizzy in. Brushing his bangs away from his face, he bought himself into a defensive stance. Perhaps it was the paranoia sweeping in but that dream had left him more than just a little suspicious of the demon butler.

Sebastian merely cocked his head, a small amused smile playing on his lips. He didn't bother to step closer for Ciel looked like he would brandish a knife against him. The boy had deteriorated as the week passed, looking more hollow and lost than he ever was. And while this trial had corrupted the boy's soul, it left Sebastian wondering whether it was a good or bad thing. He thrived in torment and despair, practically basked in such hard longing and desire, but he supposed this was the different kind. He had reared Ciel, pushing and prodding him into a direction that made him oh so delectable to watch and feast on. But this, he wasn't sure what to make of this.

"The Queen has summoned you young master," he said with a bow."Your presence is needed urgently." He was almost sure that Ciel would whine, ever the little child intent on getting what he wants. He had handled his business all this time, but even he could not replicate the persona that is Ciel Phantomhive. It had to be him that would show up in person. But would he even want to show up at all? He had an extraordinary tenacity to glue himself upon Lizzy's bedside like a leech. And while he could certainly drag the boy away for his own good, he knew that Ciel would merely kick and claw away and run back to his beloved. He wouldn't even doubt that Ciel would go so far as gnaw his way out if Sebastian would tie him to the Queen's throne with metal chains. Ciel was relentless as he was unhinged.

To his surprise, Ciel had merely slumped over deep in thought. He knew of his obligations, his responsibilities, his duties. He knew of the risks and payments. He knew it all. It was his life. But, never in his life did he suddenly feel so much doubt. While he had the occasional break down, wondering why the hell he was pursuing adventure after adventure with some zealous determination that could only be described as fanatically religious. Yet in all that time, he had thoroughly convinced himself that he was doing this for a specific purpose. He had to blacken his soul, ice it and barter it off, so he may avenge his family. He always had a purpose.

And now, there was doubt. He wasn't sure when it started, but now he more than willing to overlook all his duties, responsibilities, and obligations. His purpose seemed entirely selfish now because his life...his life was right here. As cliché as he would care to admit, his life was right next to him. Silently, he reached over to cradle her hand, tying her fingers against his as he sighed. He knew, in fact he had always known, that Lizzy was always the bridge that connected him to his new and old life.

She was, rather she is, the one of the few constants in his life that connected him to his childhood. She reminded him of happier times, of precious untainted memories. And Lizzy, she was also his future. Try as he might, he had never once thought of any reality where Lizzy and he would not eventually marry. As a child he scoffed at the sentiment of actually marrying Lizzy because there had never been any inkling of affection he held for the girl that was remotely romantic. He had only accepted their impending nuptials because her parents had pressured him into it. That was the stark truth. Then years pass, seasons change, and the two had passed through puberty before he could even blink. Then suddenly, there was something that changed because things always change. Suddenly, he regarded the girl as more than just his fiancée. Suddenly, he had accepted she was the lady that he would build a family with. And that eventual realization was more than enough for him. In fact, he suddenly regarded himself as being absolutely lucky.

In the back of his mind, he knew he would eventually leave her. That someday in the near future, Sebastian would eventually reap his treasure and she would be left as a widow. He could have been cruel and push her away earlier on to protect her from heartache, but he had no fight left in him to actually deny her. He was selfish like that he supposed. Yet, as he grew he realized that it would have been crueler to push her away so early on. He knew that Lizzy would have preferred that he would be in her life, showing her he loved, cared for her, and desired her just as much as she did him. And he would leave her with that knowledge, with that love. He knew that Lizzy would fall into despair, but he also knew that Lizzy had always been emotionally stronger than he ever was. He was confident that she would eventually find happiness again. So he was content.

At least, he thought he was. Along the way, he stumbled it seemed. He suddenly forgot what his purpose was. He forgot that he was lucky. And look at where it's gotten him. Staring at her cold hand, he pressed his forehead against their laced fingers and sighed. What could he do now? He knew of his duty to queen, but he also knew his duty to her. How could he choose between them? He had never asked, never wanted to choose something so undeniably difficult. To others, it would have seemed like an easy pick. Books were laced with every love story imaginable. If he were smart, as people would suggest, he would take a page from the book because themes like that had meanings. You choose the one you love, don't you?

"Stupid," he muttered smirking ruefully. If it were that easy, he wouldn't feel like he was threading on thin ice. But he was, so to speak. Because his choice, it always has consequences. He was called because he was needed; because only he had to ability to solve something heinous and detrimental to society. While society may have scorned him for what he does, they needed him. And Lizzy...she needed him too, right?

"I am sure Lady Elizabeth will be fine. She has Paula taking care of her," Sebastian had cut in, "you will only be gone for an hour." Sebastian watched, delightfully amused, as his young master squirmed in his seat. He had never seen Ciel so indecisive. It was quite a sight. He was almost tempted to point out that Ciel was merely fabricating scenarios in his head. He relied heavily on Lizzy's presence than she ever did. That was what was truly keeping him there. He needed to be grounded, so to speak. But, like any good pleasure in life, he must be led away to face responsibilities. He was no longer a child and Sebastian must treat him as such.

So without further ado, he had lifted Ciel of his feet with a quick pull, rambling on about a vague mission that the Queen would like completed. He had almost succeeded in pulling the sluggish man out of the door when Ciel had stopped and wistfully turned back, face gleaming with dread and uncertainty. Sebastian could only sigh, rolling his eyes in quiet annoyance, before simply stating that the doctor assured that Lizzy would be fine. He managed to pull Ciel into the hallway. Dejected and fatigued, he found Ciel almost pouting as he trudged down the hallway. Shaking his head quietly, Sebastian could only keep his comments to himself. "Ever the self deprecating brat he is," he mused.

Casting one last glance at Lizzy's sleeping form, he closed the door quietly. He scrunched his nose for a moment as he let out a small sigh. It smelled like death in there.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ciel almost felt mechanical as he climbed into the waiting carriage. He felt tired, so unusually tired, as he sat down. The suit he would usually wear to address the Queen suddenly felt too constricting, too tight. He fingered the collar for a moment as he gazed outside. It was surprisingly cool for a summer day, but bright and silent. The wind almost felt whimsical as it danced through the green trees that were scattered upon the Midford estate. He noted the accumulation of clouds brooding far away. It might rain soon. They best hurry.

He kept half his attention on Sebastian as he went to explain more details of the mission. Unfortunately, he only caught snippets as his mind had wandered off. As the carriage began to move, he felt the almost overbearing anxiety he had flush through is system so quickly it was almost remarkable. He kept a steady gaze outside, watching as the surroundings of the Midford estate slowly vanish from his sight. God, he felt sick. Why was he suddenly so nauseous?! Biting his lip, his shaking hands grabbed the carriage window to steady himself. Did he suddenly develop motion sickness?

No, that can't be it. The Midford slowly vanished from his sight as they followed the bending of the road, he made a small choking sound inside his throat. That was it. He's left the premises. After a week of tending to Lizzy, he's left her. And god...god, why did he leave her?! What was the reason he left again? The Queen? His mission? His priorities? They certainly were not as important as she was. He was sure of that. But, why did he leave her again?

He glanced at Sebastian, who had stopped talking and was watching him keenly. He was well aware he was panicking, but he wasn't sure why Sebastian was calmly telling him to breath. He was breathing wasn't he? He inhaled as much as he can, only to choke midway when he realized that his throat felt constricted. He wasn't sure what happened, but the constant whining he made as he breathed told him well enough that he wasn't breathing correctly. Lightheaded and confused, he glanced at Sebastian who had placed his both hands on his shoulders to steady him.

He was trying to steady him as he recited instructions but for the life of him Ciel could no longer hear him. The constant throbbing of his own heartbeat was all Ciel could listen to, making him feel queasy and more frightened than he thought. Blinking slowly, he wondered if this was it. He had finally gone mad with grief. That this was the eternal punishment for leaving Lizzy.

"Lizzy," he wheezed out pathetically as he shut his eyes.

And he knew it was a bad idea. He knew that with his eyes closed he welcomed a darkness that made him aware of so many little things. The beat of his heart in his ears. The whining of his lungs. The sweat tricking down his forehead. The cold clammy hands that were gripping the wooden window too tight. Sebastian's voice a soft echo of useless words. His mind was whirling with emotion, if that were possible, as though is thoughts were a hurricane of despair.

He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt dread pool into his stomach. Something happened. He didn't know how or why he knew, he couldn't remotely quantify why he should even get this feeling, but something happened. Perhaps it was his paranoia setting in, but damn it, something awful happened. Oh, why did he leave?! Why the hell did he allow Sebastian to let him leave? How could he leave Lizzy alone? Lizzy, she needed him. Lizzy, she was there, alone and scared, and cold. Lizzy, god, Lizzy, whose last vision was his cold pathetic self inflicting heartache and danger. Lizzy, who only wanted to be loved. Lizzy, who was in danger.

Eyes flickering open, his lips let out a garbled yell as he pushed the butler back. Sebastian looked on more confused and disturbed than he bothered to hide. Ciel looked feral almost, eyes wide and bloodshot as he began his alarming mantra. He looked outside, past the moving vegetation and mud, muttering to himself. "Lizzy, lizzy, lizzy..." And before Sebastian could react, Ciel had all but thrown the carriage door open and jumped out. Sebastian cursed as he leaped out quickly to catch the deranged man before his body could hit the ground. They slid across the pebbled, muddy road quickly, suits and bodies rolling about from momentum.

Sebastian winced as he felt the back of his own suit rip from the movement, half cursing his master for being distraught and entirely too foolish for his own good. Before he could glance at Ciel, crumpled and shaking in his arms, Ciel's own claw hand had ripped itself away and grasped the butler on the jaw. Sebastian watched with narrowed eyes as Ciel hurriedly pushed himself away, another hand grasping the butler on the shoulder as tight as he could. The wild, hazed look didn't suit Ciel. Yet, as those blue pools bore down on him, he felt the inkling of pride. Never had he seen Ciel so fierce, so predatorial. So inhuman.

"Take me to her, I command you to take me to her."

"As you wish, young master."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Paula hummed silently to herself, carefully taking note of all she needed for today. The new towels were left in the cupboard this morning and the shampoo Lady Elizabeth liked were delivered as well. As she turned around the corner, she stilled in surprise. Ciel Phantohive was racing towards her at a dangerous speed that she quickly moved aside to let him pass. He didn't seem to notice her obvious presence as he sprinted closer, looking even more panicked and distressed than when he left.

"Oh, Earl Phatomhive!" Paula had greeted in surprise. " I was just going to draw Lady Elizabeth a bath. She's alright, I just left her for a moment to -" She didn't even her sentence when Ciel had all but darted past her and down the hallway she had just passed. Frowning slightly, she noticed the disheveled appearance Ciel had. He didn't leave like that did he? "What-" she muttered out before turning around only to jump. Sebastian was looming over her, discontent and filthy looking. He was staring after his master with such unease that Paul couldn't help but suddenly feel panicked herself. Ciel had gone straight to Lizzy's room right?

Before she could run back into that direction, she felt Sebastian grip her shoulder. A tight line was drawn froth as he stared down the hallway. "We must allow him to face this," he said silently. Eyes widening in fear, Paula could only stare up at him in silence. What did he mean by that?

Before she could ask anymore, an unmistakable yell shot through the hallway like a whip. "Give her back!" Gasping for air, Paula had broke herself away from Sebastian's grip and tore down the hallway herself.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ciel didn't know what to think when he reached Elizabeth's door. While he could have certainly waited for Sebastian to personally bring him all the way here, his nerves were on high alert to wait for anything. Once the Midford estate was in view he tore himself away and sprinted up the stairs, adrenaline and terror fueling him like an engine. He hoped that he would find Lizzy where he had left her, sleeping away and safe. In fact, it was the ideal situation. It was quite possible, so very probable it was true. So Ciel tried vainly to calm his beating heart as he ripped open the door.

It was dark in there, abnormally so, as the windows were suddenly drawn close. Did Paula close them? For what purpose? He tried to readjust his eyes quickly, stepping into the room blindly. It was only until he reached the foot of Lizzy's bed when he realized he was not alone with her. Near the head of her bed, close to the window, stood a shadow that made Ciel's blood run cold. A shinigami. He was half tempted to push the damn entity away, but even he knew he stood no chance in fighting a shinigami. As the face revealed himself to him, Ciel could only throw himself to Lizzy's side as a flurry of fingers tried to find the pulse on her wrist. Please no. Oh god, please no. Not yet. Please, not yet. Please...please...please...

"That will do you no good, Ciel Phantomhive." As the string of light from the closed window caught the stranger's face, Ciel could only look up to greet the unwanted visitor. William T. Spears stood before him, yellow- green eyes gleaming cold and detached, as he held forth his book of judgment. He watched almost curiously as Ciel, eyes wide and terrified, tried once more to look for Lizzy's pulse near the neck. When he found none, in desperation, Ciel had placed his ear against her chest. He kept on searching, waiting, hoping. Heartbeat. He needs to hear a heartbeat.

There is none. The desolate, empty silence crashes over his head and he finds it impossible to breathe now. His eyes widened as he takes a step back, looking down upon her like a stranger. This can't be Lizzy. It can't be because she's not breathing. She's not pulsating. She's not living. Oh god, she's not living. He feels his legs shake and crash underneath him as he grasps tightly on her hand. She's so cold. She's so abnormally cold. She's ghastly pale. What happened? How did this happen? How could he let this happen? What does she need? She needs...she needs...

"It is her time," William clarified even louder. He didn't bother to wait for Ciel to react as he bought forth his beloved death scythe and slashing the deceased girl on the chest. He watched as the Cinematic Record sprang forth, detailing the girl's life. She was awfully young he supposed, but he had reaped his fair share of youth to complain. Life was a delicate little privilege.

Before he could even begin to move forward, he felt something hurl itself against him. A large warm, heated body had thrown himself on top of him, blindly scratching, hitting, and kicking as it howled. He had merely kept it an arm's length away, unsure whether or not to dispose of this little interruption.

"Give her back!" Ciel Phatomhive roared above him. William merely stared, one hand playing with his death scythe. He was sorely tempted to slash him too and put him out of his misery, but alas, it was not yet Ciel Phatomhive's time. It was not his soul to reap either. Scoffing silently to himself, he sighed. Stupid humans and their stupid emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, chapter three is a wrap. Well, like before, my author's notes are quite lengthy so please bear with me.
> 
> First, to the wonderful readers who read and reviewed, thank you very much. I encourage all of my readers to review and tell me what they think. I honestly don't mind criticism, in fact I welcome it, because I see it as a way to improve myself. It's refreshing actually to get feedback and work in angles I haven't thought of doing before.
> 
> Second, uhm, well yes. Lizzy is dead. I had quite a bit of people give me hell about it but I thought it was simply the ending that was plausible. Let's be honest now. Comatose people today are hard to care for, but with the advent of technology it is quite possible. However, back then the chances for survival are dim. That's a fact. Actually, for a while there I was sorely tempted to awaken Lizzy because her personality would be quite fun to write. But you know, you gotta roll with the punches right? Uhm, I do apologize if you do take it personally that I killed Lizzy. I did drop an awful amount of hints.
> 
> Anyway, this became awfully long actually. I meant for half of this to continue on to the next chapter but I thought I might as well end it here. School starts in a couple of days so we shall see when the last few chapters are done.
> 
> So for now, Troublesome_monkey_sama signing out!


	4. Delusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings, Troublesome_monkey_sama signing in! Oh gosh, I'm literally racing against time right now. My hardest semester is in full swing and and I want this story done! Otherwise I'd be too busy and end up procrastinating more than I should. But, on the chance that the last few chapters come at an increasingly slow pace, I do apologize for that. But you know, education must always come before leisure and pleasure. Especially if you're family depends on you far too much. Haha, but anyway enjoy the story and thank you for reading.

When Lizzy wakes up, they will talk. And he would say he's sorry, and call himself an idiot, a selfish brute, an unworthy cretin undeserving of her. And he'll gather her into his arms and implore her to never stray again. And he will marry her come spring, on her birthday. And they'll be happy. She'll be content, he will be complete. And...and they'll have children. A wonderful lad and a beautiful girl. And they'll be ecstatic. And...and...when he leaves, he will leave knowing that she will find happiness again. And he will be content, watching from the shadows. And...and...he...

And he chokes. He spews on the meager amount of air in his lungs, coughing violently when he feels the salty, bitter bile rise from his throat. It taste of blood and bitterness, of every little mistake he has done to deserve this. He lets out a muffled whimper, covering his face with his hands as his body begins to compensate for the lack of air. He feels his heart beating, far too much to be considered healthy, like a hummingbird in a deathtrap. The high ringing in his ear is much too loud and he can't seem to draw himself away from the sharp tunneling of his vision, sending him circling around the room like a spin wheel. The only thing he sees is his hands, dripping scarlet and too hot, much too hot. Hot...too hot. Stop it. Stop it! Stop it!

"-ung master! Ciel! Listen to my voice, take some deep breaths with me, come now-"

He doesn't notice Sebastian's presence until it's too late. Not until the butler is struggling to keep his hands from tearing his face off. He doesn't feel the pain blossom around his face, around the area where is nail beds drew blood. He doesn't feel anything as Sebastian forces him into a sitting position, pulling his head back until he could properly open his airway. All he knows that he is numb. Numb and hot. And oh, he's alone. So mind numbingly alone. And it's hot. So hot...the blood, it's too hot. Stop it, it burns, stop it, stop it, Stop -

"-aster! Paula, get the medical kit!"

Listless and dazed, he is forced to wait. Wait for what, he isn't sure. And as if god had willed it so, he manages to steal a glance behind Sebastian, straight to the bed that was occupied by his beloved. He expects her to be there, lying still, breathing and content, and healing and fixed, and so very much alive. But, he sees nothing at all. The bed is clean, unoccupied and unnaturally crisp. The fabric of her linens were starched and pressed, pulled tight and decorated as though no person had lain on it. Yet he knew it was a lie because Lizzy, Lizzy was there not so long ago. So where? Where did she go? Where did...

She's dead.

The sharp snark from his own mind bought him to a halt as listless arms stopped struggling against the butler all together. The ringing in his ears is louder now as the torrents of events finally crash through him like a whimsical conundrum. And each time the symphony rises, so does his heart beat until finally, all he feels is the beating of his dying heart. He feels the room swoon, as though it is the one who is swaying to this beast like beat. It's disgusting. It's disturbing. He doesn't understand it.

Sebastian watched as Ciel begins to shake, blue eyes wide and frightened, as he stared straight ahead daring not to blink. And when he does, the screaming starts. He is given a second, a small little second before Ciel crumples into himself and digs his bloodied fingers into his face. He's not even sure why the boy does it, but Sebastian had discovered that the boy had an unnatural habit of throwing the most bizarre tantrums when given the opportunity. And this, this was the biggest one he's ever done.

He's almost tempted to simply smack the boy out cold, only to stop the insipid little display he's been going through for the last hour. He's not quite sure how Ciel manages it really. It's almost a cycle how he behaves, as though he's reliving the moment over and over again. Sighing, he glances back at the empty bed behind him. The body has been taken away in the early morning days before, to be fixed and prepared for the funeral. And for the life of him, Sebastian was not prepared for the mounting despair Ciel had cast upon himself once he watched the body be taken away. It was far too much for him it seemed.

He was almost thankful when timidly, Paula had entered shaking herself. In her hands was the small medical kit, prepared by the doctor in times of trouble. Beckoning her forward, he reached inside to grab the small vial he had placed there previously. He never thought he would have to use it so early on. But as he uncorked the screw, he set one critical eye upon his whimpering young master. Mouth curling ever so slightly, he bit back his own tepid criticisms. Ciel certainly earned this.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Do you love me?"

More than anything. More than the moon. More than life itself. More than...

"Do you hate me?"

I could never hate you. You irritate me, my dear, because I love you so much. But hate you? I could never...

"Then...Why did you kill me?"

I didn't...

"How could you?!"

Please...I didn't...

"You hate me."

No, please! I don't! I love you! I don't-

"I hate you."

Good. I hate myself too.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"How...how is he?"

"He is getting there."

"Damn bastard deserves it."

"..."

"Edward, silence your mouth!"

"Tch."

"Let me talk to him."

"Yes, of course."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ciel had always known that Lizzy would be beautiful in a wedding dress. She would be clad in white, pure and chaste, with a bodice decorated with pearls and lace. Her train would fan behind her, smooth and fluid as she would move. Her beautiful blonde hair would be kept away from her pretty face, styled simply and laced with flowers and pearls. It would be a simple wedding dress, as he always imagined, because Lizzy did not need a sophisticated dress to look beautiful as she always seemed to believe. Lizzy has always been a very pretty woman.

And she would smile. Her face would brighten as it always did, lips widening as she beamed her pearly whites. Her lovely green eyes would twinkle, eyes crinkling on the sides to show her mirth. And oh, she would capture his heart once more once she catches his gaze, locking him where he stands. She would look breathtaking... glorious... enigmatic...mesmerizing... enchanting... pretty, like a goddess, as she walks up to him with flower petals softly dropping around her. And Ciel was sure, there wouldn't be a moment he would look back in his miserable life and regret it. He would never forget the moment that would seal his life with hers.

But what is life without irony and regret? Life was a balance of things; Yings and Yangs, Light and Dark, Good and Bad. So what is life without a sprinkle of misery, a dash of sorrow, a pinch of regret, and a tablespoon of bullshit? Personally, Ciel felt like he had gotten more than just a tablespoon of troubles. He felt as if the world had shoved a ladle down his mouth and force fed him their petty distain before he could have a chance to breathe.

Ciel felt himself snort before he could even begin to think again. It's a funny thing breathing. It's instinct really, so purely innate that people don't think about it. From the beginning, most babies take their first breath once they are out of the womb, taking in air as they wail. A wailing baby is a healthy baby right? So then, a silent baby...is a dead baby. At the very least, a weak baby. That hardly seems fair but that is life. Life wasn't fair. Life was never fair. Life was -

"Ciel."

Ciel felt himself flinch once a warm hand gently placed itself on his head. He sat here for hours it seemed, brooding and menacing it scared people away. He didn't mean it of course. But, as the circumstances were, he couldn't bring himself to stand. Slowly, forlornly, he looked up to see his Aunt staring down at him. The past four days have not been kind to Aunt Francis, who had lost all her stern and perfection in one foul swoop. For once, her hair was in disarray, falling out of her bun and spilling across her face and neck. The lackluster fierceness remained in her eyes, it was subdued and forced, only showing when needed. For now, she looked nothing like the strong, independent and strict woman who reared Ciel and Elizabeth as children. She was merely a grieving mother.

"Aunt Francis," Ciel whispered out grasping her hand. It was ice cold, heavy and calloused. Tentatively Ciel folded it between his hands as he stood up. "You should be resting Aunt Francis. I-"

"Do not baby me Ciel Phantomhive! I am not a child!" The Marchioness snapped as a look of fierce annoyance bloomed on her face for a couple of seconds before she slumped back and sighed. She took in the sight of her only nephew, crippled it seemed with his own darkness that he hardly had the energy to care for himself. She knew Lizzy's death had taken a toll on him, it had taken a toll on all of them, but Ciel had never been mentally stable to begin with. She feared for him more than she could admit to anyone.

So she went looking for him a day after Lizzy was buried, only to find him in the worst place he could possibly be. Ciel had chosen, perhaps unwittingly, to cocoon himself in his bed. He sat in a myriad of red silk staring blankly at the bed across from him, a mere few feet away, almost in awe. There were times she catches him opening gaping, wondering how suddenly Elizabeth's bed was empty. When she would interrupt his fortress of solitude, he would merely send her a large-owled stare as if he meant to ask so many questions all that once he was at a loss to choose which to say first. The Marchioness feared that he would be so far gone in his self imposed insanity that he would merely wonder where Lizzy had gone. That it were possible she had woken up and was taking a lovely stroll in the gardens. And well, when can she see him because he's been awful lonely and yearned for her company. All of it, sometimes, was written so plainly on his face it was frightening.

For now it seemed, Ciel's mind was fully intact and he would inquire of the funeral arrangements, how she was coping, and if he could be of any assistance. It was always the same when she would visit, even if it were to merely peek into the room. Francis could not bear to leave to boy alone for more than a few hours at a time, so she took to pacing back and forth from corridor to corridor, barking out orders as efficient as she could get on. But, not once has she coaxed the boy out of the room for any circumstance she deemed life threatening. She didn't think he could bear it so soon. Ciel, in every sense of the word, was broken.

Slowly, she threaded her fingers through his hair, noting that the he relaxed under her touch for a moment. Ciel looked worse than before. If she wasn't so sympathetic she would have dragged his butt into the bathroom and straightened his appearance before he could call upon his beloved butler for help. But, she supposed, it was time they talk first. "How are you Ciel?" she whispered softly as she eased into a spot beside him. One of her long bangs silently slipped its way past her vision and she let out an irritated grunt as she brushed it away.

Ciel considered the question for a moment, choosing to lean back against the pillow that had been placed behind him for support. Tentative eyes looked anywhere but his Aunt's face, until finally he could no longer stand it and glanced next to him. The Marchioness seemed serene almost, choosing to put on a mask of calm and patience, as she silently waited for him to answer. Swallowing thickly, he tried to choose his words wisely. It was always political, their relationship. One full of generous and whimsical rivalry, pride, and perfection. There have been fewer times in his life where Ciel had chosen to speak so openly and honestly to a Dragoness like his Aunt. "I...," he flinched as his voice cracked, "I don't know."

And for a moment, the Marchioness didn't know what to say. She had expected the boy to ease away, covering himself with petty lies just to avoid talking about the situation. But then, here he was, choosing to speak honestly for once in a really long time. Scrutinizing almost, she stared back at him and his defeated state. Ciel had managed to curl even more into himself, arms wrapped around himself securely, as if to shield himself from the possible backlash he was going to receive. It was always like that it seemed. Every time she had tried to pry him to speak, he had reacted out of fear, even if he tried his best to hide it. He fully expected her to finally succumb to that burning desire to point all the blame on him, because he truly believed he was to blame.

But, the Marchioness couldn't do that. She had no heart to point a finger at anyone. No one was to blame for her beloved daughter's death, just as there was no one to blame for the torment that had followed. It would be too simple really, to point at someone with utter distain and push all of the anger, hatred, and despair upon that person until they were destroyed. That would have been so easy. Yet, it was childish and unwarranted. Because, she could never heal. She had watched the boy fall into that same dark crevice, warding off any sort of help, until he was so far gone. When he finally emerged, he was no longer that bright little star they all knew. And no one had been more heartbroken for not helping than her daughter. Her adorable, kind little girl had tried, pitifully tried, to help with all of her broken heart could give. So, she will too. Because, if Lizzy had taught them anything, it was to never give up on those you love.

"It's...difficult you know," she finally said after a long minute. Silently, she took note of how Ciel seemed to tense beside her, jaw clenching and eyes shut tight as if he was ready to be beaten. Finally, feeling tired and worn, she let out a long drawn out sigh as the next few words flew out of her mouth in sniffs. "It's difficult to wake up every day, knowing your child is gone. And for a moment, right after you wake up...you forget. You forget and think it's a normal day. And then...it's not." Drawing to silence, she bit her lip to quench the need to start tearing for a moment before going on.

"...I'm sorry." Jumping slightly, she turned to Ciel who finally opened his eyes to stare back at her. The blue, blue orbs Lizzy loved so dearly were filling with tears and the Marchioness reached over to brush them away. The last time she had seen him cry was almost a decade ago, when Ciel had fallen over and scratched his knees. He looked so vulnerable now, small and child like as he sat there in his self imposed misery. "It was my fault! All of it...I know. I know...I...please, I'm sorry. You...you don't have to forgive me Aunt Francis...you don't...but I...know that I'm sorry...it's-"

The Marchioness raised a hand to signal him to stop talking, taking the time to turn herself to fully face him. It was then when the small flicker of light from the closed curtains caught her face and Ciel could see the aging lines and wrinkles highlight the worried expression on his Aunt's face. "Do you know the hardest part about know that Lizzy is dead?" she asked, voiced clipped and subdued to push away the tightening of her voice.

Ciel opened his mouth to answer, mind trying to find an answer. But how was he supposed to answer that? Everything about losing Lizzy was hard. Losing the one you love has always been hard. How do you answer a question like that to a woman who has given birth to child who has recently died?

"The hardest part," the Marchioness continued on as she lowered her gaze to her lap, "The hardest part is reliving that experience over and over again. Every time you wake up and realize that she's gone...waking up realizing that you still have to act like a mother even if...even if you lost a child. Waking up realizing you're still alive and she isn't." And finally, the mask crumbles and the Marchioness begins to sob. She doesn't mean to break down in front of Ciel, of course not. She meant to help him, but goddamn it, she's lost herself. She's allowed herself to grieve of course, but she hastened the process as best she can because she cannot allow her family to tear apart. Her husband had withdrawn into himself, locking himself in his study and silently mourning. Her dear son had thrown himself into training, slashing and destroying anything he can, until he's tired and numb enough to collapse. And she...well, she made sure everything else was getting on as best they can. There were funeral preparations to plan, relatives to entertain, nobles to whisk away and such. She was kept busy.

Anything to forget. At least for a while. She knows it's not healthy, but what part of her own little twisted personality wasn't? She demanded perfection knowing quite well she could never attain it. But she strives for it, like a cat chasing a mouse, because it's all she knows. It's all she can do to get by. It is through discipline she finds strength, to hold on to herself, protect what she has, and prove that her family is strong and unshakable. But her family is crumbling and she's losing them far too quickly. And finally, she lifts her face from her wet palms and stares at her nephew desperately. She's losing him far too quickly. Just like she lost her dear brother. She feels like she's losing another child and she knows she can't go through that again.

"I'm sorry Ciel," she begins with a trembling voice, "I didn't m-mean to..."

Ciel merely nods, lost and scared, looking more and more like that four year old she watched grow up. It warms her heart in a way. She knows now that this is what Lizzy had strived to see. This is the Ciel that Lizzy had tried her best to uncover from the ashen, dark entity that had arrived after the incident. This was the Ciel that Lizzy had cherished the most.

It was then when Ciel regains his bearings enough to answer back, "No Auntie...it's...this is normal, it's...okay to grieve. It's...healthy even." Hypocrite, his brain almost snarled at him. Because he's grieving and dying all at once. And he's just waiting. Waiting for his heart to finally give out and slow down, until all that is left is the shell that Sebastian will take, mold, and form until it is suitable enough to act on his behalf. When his heart is ill, cold, and wrinkled, it will take its last quivering beat before it will finally, finally work no more. And Sebastian can claim his prize and he will sink into the void that is nothingness. He knows fully well what is in store for him. It is a future of nothingness. A future without sunlight, life, or air. A future without her. That could be no better than any hell he could be thrown into. And he will relish it because he deserves it. He deserves all of it.

He's almost taken aback when the Marchioness finally leans in close, a hand shooting out to caress the side of his face. Her touch is so very warm and Ciel isn't sure what to feel about that. There is a certain air to her, he knows, that is so inherently Lizzy that he could almost pretend that it is her caressing his face so tenderly and lovingly it breaks what is left of his fragmented spirit. Yet, when he thinks the Marchioness couldn't surprise him even more, she speaks. It is soft and unsure for once, laced with such miserable regret and sadness he is left breathless.

"Indeed it is healthy to grieve Ciel, but Elizabeth would have wanted us to move on eventually. To be happy." And finally her soft grip hardens as she places her warm hand on his shoulder, trying to steady his soft swaying as she watched him with those same critical emerald orbs. "That was all she ever wanted for you. To be happy."

Ciel feels the air push out of his lungs far too rapidly as his vision starts to swirl frantically into a mix of pastel colors. Wildly, his hands grab for anything to keep him steady once he feels the sudden grip of gravity pull him sidewards. He is well aware of the Marchioness slowly lowering him into the bed, a soft voice coaching him to breath. He always had trouble breathing it seems. But, he always seemed to make it through. Unlike...unlike...

"Ciel! Stop it! Listen to me! Breathe boy! Ciel!"

Warily, he turns his gaze towards his aunt who was a mere vision of swirling hues of black and gold. Ashen faced and wheezing, Francis was almost sure that Ciel would certainly die this time. And as the dread and panic starts escalating as the seconds pass, she's almost tempted to bolt to the door and call for help. Because, right now, this couldn't be happening again. Not right now. Not when -

She is interrupted by a trembling hand, shooting forward blindly trying to grasp for support. She almost takes it when Ciel practically smacks her away and reaches towards the ceiling half mad and dazed. As the sweat and tears fall from his face, he lets out a garbled yell. "I...I don't know how! Lizzy please! I don't know how!"

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ciel awoke to the sounds of knocking. Alone and disoriented, he could only groan as he pushed himself awake. Flinching, he felt the throbbing of his head intensify with every solid knock on the oak doors, pounding vigorously with every repeat. Licking his lips for a second, he took notice of the dryness of his tongue and lips, a dry rough muscle sweeping over cracked and bruised tissue. He tried to swallow, only to realize that the sharp sting of his throat only bought forth the bitter taste of copper in his mouth. He's been screaming his vocal cords raw in his sleep again, far too much it seemed.

The incessant pounding finally stopped and the door flung open to reveal the Marquis himself. He wore black for the occasion, crisp and clean, topped with a bright blue bow tie. His face, tired and stern, had not moved a muscle as he bounded across the room until he was a mere foot from where Ciel lay. The sharp rapier sheathed in its crafted house was wrapped securely on his waist. Ciel had no doubt in his mind that Alexis would not hesitate to stab him with the sharpened steel without so much as blinking an eye. The tight, stern expression continued on as he stared down at the him, full of silent and repressed anger.

Oh, Ciel knew. He knew that the Marquis was not as forgiving as his wife. And finally, finally, he may get punished. He would be lying if he thought he didn't deserve it. He had expected this sort of backlash. He was ready for it. He was very, obscenely prepared for it. And yet, the Marquis face merely softened as the moments pass and he let out a gruff little smile. It seemed lopsided on the man's face, as though he found no reason to smile of late and the muscles on his face had stiffened from under use. Startled, the boy sat up abruptly and let out a warble of incoherent greetings as he tried his best to look presentable. It was only now did he realize how completely disgusting he must look. How pathetic he must be to his Uncle. How utter low he had fallen. How -

The sharp chuckle froze him from his movements as the Marquis began to pick at his clothes almost amused. "Don't tell me," the low rumble of his voice almost whispered out, "did you really plan of missing the procession?" He tilted his head ever so slightly and Ciel couldn't help but compare it. Lizzy had inherited many uncanny characteristics from both her parents. From her mother, her beauty, genius, and skill and from her father...practically everything in between. Even the small little twinkles and wrinkles around his eyes when he smile were so very much like Lizzy. It was uncanny. It was strange, almost nostalgic now.

"The procession certainly can't start without you." And for the life of him, Ciel could not help but suddenly feel the bout of anger bubble inside of him. He was tired, so winded and weak, and so pathetically miserable he couldn't find the energy to speak anymore. His muscles ached, burned and tore every single time he moved that he found simply sitting or laying in bed was enough to numb the pain. Everything, everything, every single thing hurt. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Goddamn spiritually. Everything was too much for him. And now, he was being coaxed away from his numb reality because of what exactly?

"You must show yourself to the procession of course," his uncle continued on. The same amused expression was plastered so securely on his face as he twiddled with his moustach as though to insult Ciel. He wasn't sure how or why but the irritation grew even more. Why does he keep saying procession? What is this, a wedding march?! Was he suddenly the expecting groom waiting for his beautiful bride!? He was tired of that fantasy now. He was tired of wishing and hoping and waiting but he knew, it will never come true. He knew very well what today is. It was no wedding procession.

And...and he wasn't ready. He could fully admit that, even if it were to himself. He's not ready to let go. He's not ready to accept. He's not ready to see Lizzy, stiff and cold and lifeless. He's not ready to watch her be lowered into the ground, knowing and expecting that this is the final moment. He's not ready for any of that. So he sits and he heaves, trying vainly to even his breathing and doing everything to forget. It is impossible but he must try. He needs to try and gain his bears. He needed time to stop. Even just for a second. Just for a moment. He just needed...he just...

"This is the last time you know?" the Marquis adds softly. His face changes and Ciel could almost see it mirror his own. The Marquis isn't ready for this either. He could never be. Because he believed, so firmly, so religiously that he was to die first. That he would die, in his bed surrounded by his wife and children and maybe grandchildren. And he will be content because his children have grown, made successful families of their own. His wife will stay by his side, fierce, loyal and strong. And he will leave, satisfied and carefree. Except, that isn't what is happened. A nightmare happened.

And he has to face it. He has to accept that his dear, beautiful little girl is gone because that is all he could do now. He has to accept that she has passed before he could. He has to accept it all, even though it is so unfair. It is unfair that she went first. It is unfair that it had to be her. It is unfair that she, who had so much potential to grow, to shine, and to make something of herself simply vanished before she could blossom. And all that hope, those expectations, those wishes he had made when he first laid his eyes on her is nothing but that. But, he has to strengthen his resolve even if he feels his core break into tiny little pieces. Because, when his wife cracks, when his son is defeated, when his family has lost, he must stay strong. Because a Midford is strong, just like Lizzy was strong. And he could only do her justice by following her example. Even if...even if it is impossible.

So he continues on, ignoring his weeping soul, to carry his nephew from his doldrums and push him forward. He has to. He needs to. "This is the last time we will all see her, Ciel. At least, at least say goodbye. She deserves that." And he stares, solid and proud, strong and unbending as the boy curls into a ball and snivels. He's frightfully young, Alexis knows, to face something so large and jarring. He's always been so frightfully young to face anything that the world has thrown at him. But Ciel had endured, battered and shell-like, but still enduring. And he must make sure he keeps enduring, because his family is breaking and he can't have that. Not again.

Carefully, tenderly he coaxed the boy to his feet, whispering slow and practiced nothings as he pulled the lad to the bath. Sebastian is waiting for him inside. He will be there to help you. Remember Ciel, be presentable. Be a gentleman. Show her who Ciel Phatomhive is. Show her that you are still there. Show her, everything you couldn't.

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"How dare you show your face!" Edward hissed, teeth baring so much he looked almost feral. His hand held tight on the weapon around his waist, hoping, waiting to strike the boy down. Ciel had emerged from the shadows he thrown himself into, much to Edward's intense displeasure. He wasn't in the mood to deal with the little twit. He wasn't in the mood to entertain his manic little display for attention. He wasn't in the mood to see him at all. Gritting his teeth, emerald eyes glared, hoping that god had enough sense to vaporize the lad where he stood.

Ciel had slowly made his way over, dazed and frightened, a small child in an awkward situation. He walked as though he were to drop dead anytime, acting listless and famished. It disgusted Edward to no end. He acted so supreme, as though he were the only one who had suffered greatly from this. But no, he wasn't. He was just selfish. He a was selfish, illogical, moronic, self obsessed, irresponsible, brutish, miserable little hound. He didn't deserve the care, concern and love this parents showered upon him. He didn't deserve the beautiful, selfless love that Elizabeth had shown him. He was undeserving. He was disgusting.

And now, now he had the audacity to show his stupid little face, after not bothering to help at all. It had been taxing, this whole affair, and Ciel had no guts to get himself involved. It had been hard, so fucking hard, to watch the people he loved suffer so greatly. His parents, bless them, his parents had not taken Lizzy's death well. Hell, no one did. His father withdrew, his mother broke, Paula destroyed herself, the servants sobbed for days, and he...he...he tried. He tried to contain the heartbreak, the pain, the sadness. He tried and tried. God, he tried so hard.

"Oh Edward, you were always such a hot head!" He could hear her voice so clearly, an echo bounding across his mind. She had always taken great care to be honest with him, to point out his faults, his limitations, his defeats because she was sure he could overcome them. That was what she was. An optimist. A very blonde, ditzy, adorable, loving little optimist. An optimist who fell in love with him.

Him. Ciel Phatomhive. The boy who couldn't save her. The boy who left her. The boy who didn't have the heart to show her much she was loved. The boy who made her cry, until the bitter end. He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve being here. "Get out!" he cried out venomously. "You're not welcome here! Get the hell out!"

He almost felt vindicated when Ciel flinched, eyes casting down as he stepped back. He kept on biting his lip, nervous and shaking where he stood. It almost felt good when he spied the trickle of tears near the corner of his cousin's eyes. Good, cry. Cry, mourn, grieve. That's all you can do now. Because you weren't good enough to save her. You didn't do anything. You were the cause of all of this. Ciel Phatomhive, you killed her.

He almost feels sickened by the amount of hate that courses through him. It's sickening when he almost drowns in it, making him feel nauseated and so incredibly repulsive. The hate is a foreign element really. It is fueled with anger, sadness, and misery. It is fueled with every single negative emotion Edward can bring forth without losing his sanity in the process. And he's almost apologetic for lashing out at his cousin for it. Almost. He knows, deep down, that it is no one's fault. He knows. And yet...

"I'm sorry," Ciel whispers out. It's soft, withdrawn and pleading. It's pathetic.

Edward sighed, he makes it's too easy really. So finally, Edward quells his anger because Lizzy would have hit him square in the head for simply speaking to her fiancé in such a way. He quells his anger, reminding himself that Lizzy would have been proud of his control. He needs to control himself now, now when she couldn't. He needed to...he needed to...fix things.

"You should be," he growled back, subdued and tight before nodding off to the altar. The church is beautifully decorated, covered in hues of white, pink, and light blues. These were the colors Lizzy would frequently wear, they the colors that always made her smile. The flowers are linked together, spiraling up the large gothic columns, up to rich vaulted archways of the roof. The church is full of light streaming from the colored windows, removing shadows and leaving a sense of warmth and comfort. And in the front, near the alter, lay Lizzy. "Go see her Ciel. You've kept her waiting for too long."

And Ciel stumbles forward, unsure but very much shaken. He takes in his beloved, still and cold, looking almost angelic where she lay. She lay in white and red silk, adorned with soft petals and candles. It's almost majestic and beautiful in a way, if it wasn't so heartbreaking. And...and she's wearing white. Like...like a wedding dress. She's clad in white, so pure and chaste, with a bodice decorated with pearls, lace, and sunlight. It fanned around her like a blooming flower. Her hair, blonde and delicate, kept away from her pretty face, was styled with soft curls adorned with flowers and pearls. He could see the bruises, but only if he bothered to look closely. The extensive work done upon her made her look ethereal. Unreal. Untouchable. Beautiful.

Oh, it's a curse. Ciel knows. This is his last vision of her. This is the memory that he will remember. This is the ceremony that he will cry over. This is...this is all he could get. It is ironic and painful. As he lowers himself to a kneeling position, he cannot help the whimper that escapes his gasping lips. God, gods, someone. If you are out there, tell him why this is happening. Please.

"Oh Lizzy, I'm...I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay this chapter is done. My god, you readers have no idea how much I struggled with the concept of killing Lizzy. I admit it, I had a scene all planned where she does wake and and they do talk. And then she dies. Isn't that lovely? (I'm quite the sadist). Anyway, quite a bit of people asked me how exactly Lizzy died since I hardly went into details. Well, logically I think, Lizzy would have died of either starvation (as broth is hardly enough to sustain a fragile health), aspiration (the most likely cause seeing as gag reflexes are usually absent in comatose patients), or sepsis (due to obvious infected wounds). If I prolonged it any longer and she would have woken up, she most likely would have suffered from kidney failure. Yep, I didn't really want to get into that. That's a bit gritty and getting medical sounds pretty morbid enough.
> 
> Anyway, as you can tell, I actually tried to deviate a bit from only just Ciel and his confounded thoughts. I don't know. When I read stories where the girl dies and the guy mourns, it's always just that. The guy mourns and people are sad. But I'm always like, Lizzy was part of a strong family unit. I can't simply ignore that. I felt like I had to look at her integral family members (I do feel bad I left Paula out though). Since they didn't fully explore the Midford family I almost had free reigns on how they would react. I didn't want them to just be passive characters because they always seemed to be a complex family. Hopefully, I did some justice.
> 
> Well anyway, hopefully I get the last chapter finished soon. It's winding down people. It will take time though. Sorry for that. Junior year college is a bitch (Please excuse the cursing and whining.) Also, excuse the confounded sentence structure, spelling and grammar mistakes. I'm literally running on caffeine and time. Yes, yes, excuses excuses.
> 
> So anyway, Troublesome_monkey_sama signing out!


	5. Grievance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Troublesome_monkey_dono signing in! Well hello readers. I...uh...let's just say I have no right to spew out any real explanations. Honestly, this fanfiction slipped my mind once the full on rage of junior year came toppling over me. I'm going to try my best and pretty much just wrap up everything I can. Of course, I might not be able to in one chapter so we shall see how this goes. Putting that aside, I completely forgot that I posted the last chapter on Valentines day. Sorry about that. I knew it was just depressing.

When people grieve, they require time. It depends on people really, how long they will take. Some take a couple of months, some take years, and then there are some that don't stop. If Ciel was being honest with himself, he would say that he would never stop. Because, grieving for Ciel is a struggle itself. He doesn't know how to grieve. He doesn't know how to mourn. He was half competent in displaying any sort of emotion foreign to him. Ciel, in every sense of the word, is lost.

But, that doesn't mean that Ciel cannot feel. On the contrary, Ciel curses himself for feeling too much. It's overwhelming how the spectrum of human emotion can be so broad. It's frustrating to experience every inch of it, how easily his scale of emotions swing back and forth like pendulum every few minutes. He feels everything when he "grieves." The small little things trigger it really. When he catches something colorful in his peripheral vision that reminds him of Lizzy, he can't help but feel the bubble of nostalgia cross through. He goes through the emotions of happiness, recalling how exactly Lizzy would smile or laugh or shout or...just be her. And he's tickled really at how adorable it could be. Then it is quickly crushed by a wave of melancholia, when he suddenly remembers that, oh, yes, she's no longer here. And he's left there, pathetically groveling, grasping into a memory that he's almost terrified of forgetting. It is times like those that tire him out. It's exhausting to keep on feeling.

There are times when he wishes he could stop. That, if he could simply just snap his fingers, it would all just disappear and he could just think logically. He could focus on other things; On the business, on the cases, on his duties. Except, how he just things those are small petty things to worry over. What good are any of those when the people you love are dead? What good are honor, duty and pride when you feel your beating heart stretch for too much that it really is painful to move? What good is anything?

Except that's just it. He is still alive; living and breathing, processing and organizing, and thinking. He's always thinking. He's always living. And he's forced to keep living. Sebastian mostly pulled him through it, keeping him in a strict schedule of sorts, a keen eye watching his every move. He follows it listlessly, mechanically moving to and fro, stimulating his brain with neurotic nonsense until finally he learns to stop thinking about Lizzy. It takes him months of painful repetition actually, ingraining the routine in his brain until he finds that it gets easier going through the motions.

There are those painful days, when he's almost forgotten, and he finds himself seeking out for Lizzy as though she was simply sleeping in her room. It happens on those sunny, uplifting days, when the sun is peaking in the sky and shining the bright blanket of snow in the frosty ground. It was during those days when Ciel awakens, bleary eyes taking in the morning almost gayfully as he could, dressing quickly and thinking to himself that it was a nice day to take a stroll in the garden. It was sunny enough to view the frosted gardens just to watch Lizzy delight herself with playing the soft snow. Then, as he strolls down to her room, he suddenly remembers. It's unbearable really, to remember.

Sebastian finds him most days, standing outside that door, looking like that very night when his life changed. He simply stares, dull blue eyes looking forlornly at that wooden oak door, knowing fully well what would greet him when he peeks in. It's darkness, always darkness. When Sebastian is there, pulling him away, he would always ask the same question. "Where did she go?" he would softly whisper, a quivering voice betraying his firm facade. "She can't have gone far, can she?"

It was during those times when Sebastian knows he needs a shock of reality once more. So, as gracefully as he could, he would coax Ciel to accompany him for another visit. He found that Ciel developed an intense and emotional response to carriages. Ciel associated those damn wooden things as signs of bad luck and would adamantly refuse to get on. It was carriages that took Lizzy away. And be it, kicking or screaming, passive and aggressive, he would eventually get on with the promise of seeing Lizzy. Because Lizzy was worth it.

And as he presses his forehead against the cool glass of the carriage window, he cannot help but think that this time, Lizzy will be waiting for him. This time she will greet him with a lovely smile, pearly whites flashing, eyes twinkling and a light blush dusted on her beautiful face. And oh...she'll be grand, wearing light blue and nude hues, looking as elegant and sophisticated as ever. And Ciel hopes that she will gather him in her arms, embracing him tightly with a grand squeeze, giggling at the happiness of it all. And he wishes to take in her aroma, always something vanilla, wafting into his noise and reminding him that her warmth and presence was right there, in his reach.

But reality is cruel and unforgiving. It does not indulge in Ciel's fantasy but simply sits back and roars with laughter when Ciel is faced with the horrors of reality. He is greeted not by a beautiful maiden, but a barren and cold stone. Lizzy's headstone is grand, in an ornate sense, the best that her family could afford. She is surrounded by family, generations of Midfords and Phantomhives, all cold and dead just like her. Ciel could only stare and stare, until it finally all rushes back to him, and he crumbles again.

Is it cruel to keep persecuting him with this dose of reality? Perhaps. But, it would be far worse to allow Ciel to indulge himself in a fantasy that was wholly created by his mind. Ciel needed to be grounded, to be fixed and prodded until he could stand on his own two feet. That was Sebastian's job. And he would be damned, even more than he was, if he didn't do his job well.

So Sebastian waits, patiently like a hovering shadow, as Ciel tries to gather himself again and fix whatever remanence Lizzy had left behind for him to salvage. It's pitiful and barren really, but it was enough.

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Sebastian is almost pleased to report Ciel's agonizingly slow progress. During the middle of the winter, when the leaves have all fallen into the barren ground and the snow had fallen to form thick blankets of cold, Ciel finally begins to ease his daily visits to Lizzy's grave. It's a gradual thing Sebastian finds. It starts small, from daily visits consisting of Ciel brooding against her head stones for hours at a time to gradual weanings cut short after an hour or so of groveling. Then, Sebastian notes idly, that the daily visits grow few, as Ciel devotes more time to other things. Visits turn into three or two per week until they are merely a weekly basis where Ciel devotes his time to fixing the area around her headstone.

Ciel remains quiet through this ordeal, speaking in breathless whispers and mutters to the invisible wind around him. The stern, hard scowl on his face seemed to be permanently plastered on for Sebastian hasn't spotted the lad crack so much as a lip twitching upwards. Sebastian was fully aware of Ciel's current angst. It was a black, miserable, dreary aura that was lightened neither by tea, chess, or sweets. It seemed it was there to stay, permanent and ugly as it was.

The servants have all been undoubtedly subdued, choosing more often to bit their lip and stop themselves from crying on more than one occasion. They all grew to truly adore Lizzy who was a messy little beacon of happiness and light in a very vast and cold mansion. They had gotten use to the idea that Lizzy was there to stay, to bring comfort and warmth in a very small and admittedly confounded little family they had. The news of Lizzy's abrupt departure was certainly a massive jolt into their fragile psyche, but it was harder to watch their beloved Master succumb into suppressed hysteria before their eyes. It was frightening and confusing all at once.

However, they were all accustomed to death. More than that, they understand the grieving process more than most. So they give Ciel that needed breach, keeping one keen worried eye on the lad as he toddled about his business as monotonous and mechanical as he could. By and by, they did their little things to comfort Ciel, Bard would attempt to cook a half decent meal and dessert. Finny would attempt to grow beautiful flowers in the snow encrusted group. Meyrin would try to make the manor as immaculate as possible. Snake would offer one of his snakes for comfort. Of course, it wouldn't end any well as most were quite incompetent in their task, but Ciel would take it to stride and react. His gaze would soften, perhaps for a moment before he would attempt a soft little smile of his own.

Perhaps it was this smile that would devastate the little household more. His lips would never truly curve up and he would look pathetically miserable more than ever. Bard had even pointed it looked as if Ciel had swallowed charcoal instead of attempt a half decent smile. Thus, their efforts would increase tenfold, giving Sebastian plenty of task to remedy their incoming disasters.

But it was Tanaka that surprised Sebastian the most. The old man had been abnormally quiet about the whole affair. He seemed to linger in the background; a solemn and blank look on his face as if he was pondering too hard on a situation that had a multitude of possibilities. Sebastian had always thought about what the old man was thinking for he was probably the most affected servant in the mix. Sebastian was a trusted and immersed member of the household who watched Ciel and Lizzy grow from the moment of their conception. He had often treated the two as his own grandchildren, making Sebastian wonder what exactly was the man thinking as he watched Lizzy's funeral with such blank emotionless eyes.

It was a week before Christmas when the man finally broke his silence when he approached Sebastian and graciously asked if he could accompany Ciel to visit Lizzy's grave instead of Sebastian. It had been the first in the month of December, marking an important moment in Ciel's progress. They had been bundled nicely in their winter garb and sauntering over to the carriage when the old man appeared. He smiled amicably, promising that he would protect Ciel in his stead. And for a moment, Sebastian almost hesitated. Certainly he could trust the man to protect Ciel, for he was no pushover, but the threat to Ciel's life has always been there. He was best to protect the grieving lad, there was no doubt, but could he really trust this human?

Before he could answer, Ciel had answered for him. "Stay home Sebastian, Tanaka will accompany me for today. We shouldn't take long. Make sure they don't burn the house down." His voice was short and clipped, seemingly tired before the day truly began for he had no energy to properly speak at the moment. He hadn't even glanced their way, choosing to eye the carriage in front of them, itching to get in and simply sit.

So Sebastian relented with a small bow. "Of course Master," he said as he passed the responsibility to Tanaka for the moment. "I am merely a call a way," he added as the passed him. He gave Tanaka a glance, choosing for the moment to trust in this human who has earned a certain degree of his respect. For all of the old man's short comings, Sebastian knew that he was one hell of a butler.

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Ciel didn't quite understand why Tanaka would have wanted to accompany him to see Lizzy. It wasn't those times when they were children where he had a scheduled play date with her. It wasn't as if they would find her waiting for them once they entered the Midford manor screeching about how she had set up a tea party. They would be greeted by the same cold and dreary stone had visited more often than he should. It wasn't a comforting sight, not at the very least.

And Ciel knew that Tanaka would be impacted, perhaps more greatly than Sebastian or the other servants could. Tanaka loved Lizzy, who was the epitome of a genius little darling granddaughter that he always wanted. He could still remember the times when they were very small, perhaps three or four, when the Midfords and the Phantomhive families were together in the lounge in the midst of an intense discussion. Their children were generally left alone to do their own affairs a close proximity to where the adults sat. And he remembers Lizzy always hosting her own version of a grand tea party, forcing her younger cousin to take part. She had dragged along Tanaka in the midst of their party, coercing the poor man into submission as he dressed him in a laced baby pink bonnet with a large teddy bear on his lap. Tanaka had taken all of it into stride, automatically playing along as the ever so polite French man who just arrived for mid afternoon tea. He had always been like that for he absolutely adored the two munchkins he helped care for.

"This is the first time you accompanied me," Ciel said bluntly has he pressed his cheek against the cold window pane. The cold glass was always comforting somehow. Tanaka merely sat across from him, the usual grin playing on his lips as his keen eyes studied him. And for a moment, Ciel almost felt comfort. This was the same man who was with him throughout his life. The same man who worked for hard alongside his brother. The same one who had devoted himself to protect his family. He never truly blamed Tanaka for failing to protect his loved ones that dark night many years ago. He was merely one man. He did his best and that was enough.

As he glanced at the man with the corner of his eye, Ciel suddenly found that Tanaka's expression darkened into a solemn and hard frown. He looked troubled as he sat there, with an impeccably crisp and warm suit and a very prim posture. "I thought it was time," Tanaka finally answered.

"For what?"

The man chose to stay quiet for the moment, but Ciel understood. In a way the man was grieving, albeit silent and unnoticeable as it was. This was the first time since the burial that Tanaka would see Lizzy. He supposed it was appropriate for two pitiful beings to mutually grieving beings to mourn together. It made the process easier really, to know that you weren't truly alone going through it.

"She loved you, you know." He jumped at the sudden remark and he whipped his head to study the man. Tanaka was merely watching the scenery pass by, looking as if he didn't comment on anything at all.

"Wh-what?" Ciel ventured to ask once more. He gauged for his reaction, wanting to see whether or not he could see resentment in the man's tone or face. He had never actually asked Tanaka whether or not he considered Ciel responsible for this tragedy. He had sensed and felt the distance Tanaka had given him this couple of months, but the man didn't dare mention anything that remotely hinted at any feelings of resentment or betrayal.

When Tanaka turned back to him, smiling gently he was taken aback. "She loved you very much," he said simply. Ciel merely swallowed, eyes widening and breath hitching. He didn't quite understand why he was saying this and smiling. He didn't get it. Why was he -

Tanaka continued to watch him, his smile widening. "She would always come to me full of concerns. She constantly worried about you, you know? How was Ciel eating? Is his asthma acting up? Did he get enough sleep? Always constantly worrying for you."

"And I failed her." Ciel let out a small wavering breath and chose to lower his gaze. He closed his eyes when he felt the prickling bitterness rise up as his eyes began to shine with tears. "I betrayed her. I hurt her. She deserved so much more...than I could have ever given." And that was the truth. She had always deserved better. She deserved the best. She always deserved the chance to create a happy fulfilling life with a husband who was kind and brave and was not afraid to tell her was loved. She deserved to have children who wouldn't be crippled with the Phantomhive curse. She deserved more than what Ciel could have offered for her.

"Indeed." Ciel flinched. He couldn't help it. It was one thing to admit his ineptitudes but it was another to hear someone agree. But Tanaka wasn't just someone. Tanaka was a man whose opinion Ciel could honestly say he valued. The man was an institution in his own right, having protected and cared for Ciel and Lizzy in such an intimate way. And to hear him agree that Ciel was simply not good enough for Lizzy just hurt. It was a blow that Ciel felt vibrate somewhere close to his heart. Yes, he just wasn't good enough. Not for the Midfords. Not for Tanaka. Not for Lizzy.

"Indeed," Tanaka repeated again making Ciel shiver in his seat, "Lizzy deserved more than what you have offered her. But, Ciel, she knew that. She knew that and was still very adamant about marrying you. Because she loved you so much." He watched the poor lad practically shrivel in his seat. If Ciel could, he would have curled into a fetal position and willingly close his eyes in hopes that he would die faster.

"I...I never deserved her."

Tanaka merely cocked his head and sighed. "Because you never tried to."

It was then when Ciel raised his head to look at him. His eyes were blood shot as he blinked away the tears. "What?"

"Years have not been kind to you Ciel, that much is true," Tanaka said as he reached forward to pat the boy's head. "And you have changed so drastically that Lizzy had no idea who you were. She tried, my boy. She tried to understand because she loved you so dearly. But you...you cocooned yourself away from her reach."

Ciel's tearful and sorrow etched image broke and his face scrunched into a look of misery and anger. Dejected he pushed himself away from Tanaka's touch and scowled. "Because she was trying to love someone who was already gone. She loved the old Ciel far too much." Angrily, he turned his face away, choosing once more to press his face against the cold glass. "She never realized that old me had died in that fire."

And for a moment, as the words left Ciel's lips, he panicked. He didn't mean for those words to slip out. Casting a worried glance at the man, he practically cringed. Tanaka did not bother to remove that sad and wistful expression on his face. It was a resigned expression, choosing to accept the reality of a situation that can no longer be remedied. It had been years ago. No matter how strong, steely and determined he was, the trauma that was inflicted was not something he could have easily taken away. It had seared upon Ciel's soul, branding him forever. It had changed him. That was that.

Biting his lips, he steeled himself for whatever the old butler would say next. Surprisingly, Tanaka let out a tired sigh and simply said, "My dear boy, Lizzy loved you the most after that night." He watched as the broken lad sat up once more and incredulous look blossoming on his face. "When she first moved in, she often confided her troubles to me. And there was a night, just after she moved in, where she came to me in tears." Briefly, he paused to watch as Ciel shrunk into his seat once more. He was always very affected when he hears of Lizzy's tears. Because he found that he was always the cause of them.

Still, he motioned for Tanaka to continue. "And she had lamented in frustration how hard it was to understand this new you. How difficult it was to love this new change. She said...she said she missed you, from the days of your youth where you were happy." And he could almost see Ciel scoff at the thought. It was as he predicted. She was still in love with an illusion. "And I had asked, why she bothered to stay. Why she continued to press on, forcing your relationship to work. Do you know what she said?"

And Ciel sighed. It was almost obvious what Lizzy would have said. She would have said that she believed that the old Ciel, the young naive innocent boy of her childhood, was still there somewhere buried in all the rubbish that he had piled atop his current personality. She adamantly believed that if she stayed and worked on it hard enough, she would uncover the boy that she fell in love with. She still believed that it was a worthwhile chance. And that was where she was wrong.

Tanaka's gentle smile grew as he continued on, taking in Ciel's scowl as spoke. "She said at first she was saddened by the abrupt change. She admitted that she had tried to uncover the boy she loved. But as time went on, she fell in love with the broken boy she tried to fix."

"Wh-what?"

"Because she said you attempted to please her. You attempted to make her happy. You went along with all those things you disliked to make her happy. And she loved you dearly for that. But it saddened her to know that you refused to be loved back."

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When Ciel and Tanaka arrived in the cemetery it was eerily quiet. The crunching snow protested under their feet as the trudged along the windy trek of graves to locate the newest inhabitant. When they neared Lizzy's marker, they were surprised with the array of flowers and candles that was tastefully decorated about. It seemed the Midfords had come earlier that day, choosing to decorate Lizzy's grave for Christmas.

The word Christmas stopped Ciel in his tracks. In midst of his sad musings, he had almost forgotten how close it was. Christmas. His birthday. He was turning of age this year, marking a truly remarkable time to display his tenacity of living for this long. It would be his first real year as an adult. And it would be his first year without her.

Suddenly the wind feels ten degrees colder and he shivers where he stands. He had always spent a great deal of his birthdays with Lizzy, who had always taken it upon herself to celebrate his birthday with a party. Once they had turned into teens, it was almost expect for Lizzy to throw another lavish event to celebrate 'his big day.' He still found it useless to celebrate it, but he no longer complained whether it was necessary of not. It was almost customary at this point.

In a way he enjoyed it. He was surrounded by his own confounded little family, all drunk beyond their limits and laughing like idiots most birthday parties, and a fiancée whose smile often rivaled the sun. The cake was always good. Her laughter was a melody. And the wine afterwards would lull him to sleep. All in all, it was always a pleasant day. Except this year...it would be...

"I'm very sorry my dear, for not seeing you earlier," Tanaka's roughened voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. Alarmed he looked down to see the man had kneeled before the grave, one shaking, pale, wrinkled hand on his heart as he bowed his head. It reminded him of all those years ago when he would kneel to kiss Princess Lizzy's hand as a grand gesture of good faith. "I...I had to take care of things," Tanaka whispered as the beginnings of tears began to gather in his eyes. "It took some time but I'm here now."

Ciel couldn't help the searing stinging of fresh tears spew out as he watched the scene. Honestly he couldn't help it. It was a sad scene. It was yet another scene of a father losing a child too early. He couldn't stand seeing it. Really, he couldn't stand any of this. He couldn't stand the fact that he was standing here, in the cold windy snow barren cemetery to visit the grave of the woman he loved. He couldn't stand watching Tanaka break down for the first time in his entire life. He couldn't stand how forlorn the servants were at home. He couldn't stand how Sebastian treated him like porcelain doll that might break upon impact. He couldn't stand the fact that he was facing his next week he would be facing a birthday alone without Lizzy for the first time in a long, long time.

Breath hitching and figure shaking, he let out a tiny sob. Because he was tired of everything. He was tired of feeling. He was tired of crying. He was tired of emotion. He hated it all. He hated that he cared so much. He hated that he made so much mistakes. He hated how he regrets too much. He hated that hated everything.

And for the first time in a long time, he lets himself sob along with one of the people he had always felt understood him more. Strangely, it was comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm going to stop there for now. Man, this is my shortest chapter. Haha. You know all know what's going to happen next I presume? Well, as I said, I predict perhaps one more chapter. My god, I hope I have enough time to finish this soon. I'm so sorry for the very late update. I was suppose to finish this around March, I know. Truly sorry about that.
> 
> Ah yes before I forget. One of the readers actually messaged and asked what I thought about Lizzy as a character. I didn't get a chance to properly message her back, but here's a brief answer I suppose. Personally I find Lizzy to be one of the most interesting characters in Kuroshitsuji. Honestly, I also find her to be the most tragic. In a sense, she is always destined for heartbreak and tragedy simply because she loves Ciel. I find her personality to be pure, strong, and heartbreakingly 'innocent.' I use the word innocent lightly in that, she's clearly not stupid and understands how Ciel's life is operated, but she honestly still believes that somehow Ciel and she will find love and be happily married. I find that to be tragic but overwhelmingly strong minded. All in all, she's honestly one of the few characters that can be easily misinterpreted. Thus, she's such an interesting character to play with.


	6. Stand Still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful readers, Troublesome_monkey_sama signing in! So...I struggled for a good long while on how I was going to end this fanfiction. Honestly, it came to the point where I could have done alternate endings just to satisfy my own little misguidings. However, after finishing a long long hospital duty, I finally came up with the ending that I am most satisfied with. Hopefully, you all find this ending satisfactory, and not have a desire to burn me alive. Haha. Ahem...so please enjoy and read on!

It gets harder and harder each day, Ciel realizes, when he is forced to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. It tends to be more physically demanding than usual, as if he started the day finishing a marathon. He finds himself physically drained most days, choosing more and more to lounge in bed to accomplish his paper work than take the admittedly short trek across the hall to his office. Sebastian had put his foot down and half dragged him out of bed two days after he began to habitually do it, but the butler all but failed when Ciel sat like a deadweight in his position with the look of utter loathing brewing on his face. "No," was the only solid statement he had uttered before he buried himself in the covers and pointedly ignored the hovering butler for the rest of the day.

The nightmares get worse, Ciel discovers. The worst, he finds, that the terribly cliché simple ones. Often he finds himself in his office, sitting forlornly in his chair, his hands whirling about to accomplish paper work. And his dream state, his actual view, spends it's time tucked in the dark corner just watching this other Ciel work away as if it were another day. And all is well.

"This is a dream," Ciel mutters to himself as he watches his other self work. "Just a dream. Nothing more."

At least that is what he likes to delude himself with before a dainty knock is heard against the wooden office doors. And slowly, the door reveals a lovely sight. Lizzy peeks her head in, almost shyly as she gazes inside. Ciel thinks she looks beautiful. She's dressed impossibly posh for the occasion, decked in frills and petticoats of red, white, and lace. The dressed must be designed by Nina for it fit her like a glove, contouring to her soft curves more than her usual dresses would. "Ciel?: she calls from her spot as she shuffles forward, softly entering as if she was afraid of entering a sacred space. She looked impossibly nervous, wringing her hands and bringing it close to her chest as if she were pleading. "I'm sorry to disturb you but...I..." She trails off, looking at the floor as a healthy pink blush begins to dust her cheeks.

"I..."

And for a moment, Ciel thinks the other him would answer as he places one paper he's been brooding on to the table. Except, he says nothing. Instead, the other Ciel reaches inside his desk to take out more stacks of paper. He hardly looked up, working about his desk as he if he's never noticed the girl standing in front of him. In fact, Ciel is sure he doesn't.

He notices the look of hurt that flashes on Lizzy's face before it is wiped clean and a strained smile is plastered in its place. Lizzy effectively squashes her emotions as she pushes forward to speak once more. "Well today is my sixteenth birthday so...I thought perhaps...we could spend it together?" The hopeful tone of her voice is pleading and far more strained than what Ciel could ever remember her using. It was as if she expected him to reject it quickly. And that thought stung.

Again, Ciel thought his other self would react, but unexpectedly, he does nothing but yawn. He quickly covered his mouth, letting himself lean back for a moment to stretch his arms. Not once had he even acknowledged Lizzy. And this angers him more than he could ever imagine. He feels the anger bubble further as he watches this doppelganger slowly serve from his chair to turn the window behind him, effectively cutting himself from the girl's gaze.

And the silence is deafening. For a moment, Ciel is tempted to tear himself away from his spot, shake this doppelganger to his senses, push him out of the window and gather Lizzy into his arms. Because, how dare he?! How dare he ignore something so genuinely lovely and sweet when he, the real him, struggles to hold on the little memories he's made with Lizzy!? How can he effectively turn his back away from something so pure?! How!? How!? How?!

"This is a dream," his mind silently whispers in his ear. And for that split second his anger calms into a simmer. It is a dream. A dream he can manipulate. A dream he can change.

"...Ciel?" he hears Lizzy strangle out. He's afraid to look at her now because he could hear her tears. He could hear the clotted strain of her voice, quaking and too high as she struggles to maintain her composure. But he forces himself too look anyway. He doesn't expect the sight to shatter him so easily.

The soft trails of tears are pouring from her precious precious green green eyes. It's shimmering with misery and resignation, long thick eyelashes clumping together as they are soaked with brimming tears. She starts letting out soft gasps, trying vainly to cease her crying. It only manages to make it louder somehow, coloring her cheeks and the tip of her nose red as she fights for control.

And Ciel wishes he could be the one to comfort her. He would sacrifice a limb if he could, for even just a moment, gather her into his arms and just love her. He felt that bubbling need to comfort her flare stronger than before and he cursed himself for being the cautious bystander. He knows, of course that it is impossible because...this is a dream. A beautiful, delirious, ugly dream.

"I..I-I understand," Lizzy struggles out, "you're b-busy. Yes...I...it...sorry for interrupting." She swiftly turns around and opens the door silently. "I won't do it again." she adds quietly as she takes a chance and peeks back at him. His other self is despondent, sitting in his chair staring at the scenery without a care in the world.

And for a split second, Ciel looses it. He wishes so many things upon his other self now; it is almost sinful to admit. I wish he died. I wish he were burned to death. I wish he were neutered. I wish someone tortures him and slowly watch him die in a pool of his own body fluids. It only occurs to him afterwards that he is projecting those wishes against himself, as counterintuitive as that would be.

"I love you so much Ciel." His head snaps up to where Lizzy is standing, her own back against him. She's shivering now, back straight and proper, with one arm wrapped around her waist and the other clutching the brass door knock far to firmly than one should. Ciel can see the sadness that is oozing out of her and all he wants to do is to run to her.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. He chants in his head. He finds himself mouthing the words more and more as he watches her, only realizing far too late that he is merely mouthing words. He is effectively silenced, the power of speech only being a figment of his own imagination.

"I'm sorry..." she says again before slipping into the shadows of the dark hallway in front of her. And as she goes, Ciel feels that familiar bubble of pure desperation come forth. No, please come back. Please, don't leave me. Please. I beg you. Please don't walk away from me again. Please...I love you. Please, Lizzy, Please just...just turn around. Come back.

He brings his hand up, fingers flying as though he was trying to take her back into his grasp. Except he's stuck in this god-damned desolate dark corner of the room, nothing but a wisp of a memory fading far faster than he could even grasp. He's choking on silent words and screams, desperate and hilariously obtuse. He isn't real. At least not in this reality. And it kills him. This reality is where Lizzy is. It's where she only is now.

He needs his feet to work. He needs his mouth to speak. He needs his lungs to expand before he chokes. He needs action. Motion. He needs motion. He needs... "You," he croaks out bringing a heated glare to the other Ciel across from him. He seemed more content on fiddling with the button of his suit more as he stared out of the window. The stupid, insipid, oblivious fool.

"Do something!" he roars in his dark detention. "Don't let her get away again! Don't let her go!" He's not even sure this Ciel even hears him but he continues his pleading. Because damn it, damn it, damn it, he needs to do something. "Take control!" he screams out, further straining his overused vocal cords. Oh he wishes. He wishes so much that he could claw his way out of this deluded prison (a corner, a dark, damp corner) and run into the hallway with every intent of cutting Lizzy off.

Because she's doing it again. She's walking away for the last time. She's running away with the thought that he never cared. That he never loved her. And he did. By the name of god, heaven, and the universe, he cared. He loved her as a child. He fell in love with her as he grew. And he still loves her now. That was the truth. It was the simple truth that he never bothered to show. At that time, he thought it was for the best. He thought he was doing Lizzy a favor. He thought he was saving her from heartbreak.

And he's led them both to ruins.

So he stands, shivering and shouting silently in his dark dreary corner of the room, reflecting on every mistake that he has made. He's made so many many mistakes. He has effectively piled one atop the another, creating a behemoth mountain of regrets. And all he can do now is apologize. Apologize for everything. Apologize to no one. Because...she's gone.

"Stop it!" he cries out in anguish, grabbing his hair out of pure frustration. "Stop it! She's here! She just walked out! She just-"

"You're pathetic," a soft, clipped voice cut him off quickly. Shaking, tear filed eyes managed to look back at his other self, who finally noticed his presence. This Ciel stood imposingly tall like a hovering shadow. He cocked an eyebrow for moment, before his features softened into a neutral expression. It was as if he was trying to figure out exactly what to make of what he was seeing. And to be honest, Ciel wasn't sure what he was seeing.

Before he could react, his other self began to chuckle earnestly, as he if he's received something truly hilarious to laugh at. Perhaps it is the first time in a long time he's ever seen himself just let go and laugh at something amusing. It starts to bring that familiar rumble that spew out of his lips, joined with that audacious quiver of his shoulders. Except, Ciel detects nothing short of pure mockery in its tone; a sound he reserves for besting opponents.

His other Ciel brings himself forward, lips twisted into a sneer a short second later. His cerulean blue eyes leer at him with contempt and he spat, "She's gone you fool. Don't expect her to come running back." And with a hard shove, he is pushed back into the darkness.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Francis wasn't surprised she would find him here. She was less surprised to see Sebastian standing right behind him, a black umbrella aloft, holding it over his Master's head to keep the falling snow away. She supposes that in a way it might have been amusing to see, if it wasn't for the fact that Ciel was curled low to the ground, sitting on a crimson blanket Sebastian so graciously laid out with his knees tucked close to his body and chin pressed against them. His arms were curled around him tightly, shivering and quaking silently. She wasn't sure if it were the cold or...well.

Silently, she trudged closer, the soft snow crunching beneath her as her petticoats dragged behind her. None of that mattered really. At least, not anymore. "Have you run out of things to say to her?" she finally spoke aloud. She was even less surprised to find that Ciel jump and flinch for a moment before going completely rigid. He twiddled with the scarf wrapped securely around his neck for a moment before nodding. At least, Francis thought it was a nod. It seemed mechanical really. She wasn't sure if it was a spur of a movement or twitch, but she will take it as a nod.

When she finally came close she exchanged brief glances at Sebastian who gave her a prim and proper smile before bowing for her. For a split second, Francis watched as Sebastian's locks flew forward to cover his forehead as he bowed. In another world, in another time, she would have probably grabbed hold of his audacious fringe and sheared it off without so much as a glance. Honestly, the impropriety of it all. But...she cleared her throat and gave him a brief, tight smile. "Good day to you too Sebastian," she greeted amicably before steering her steel eyes to Ciel's direction. "If you don't mind, I would like to borrow my nephew for a moment."

"Of course Madam," he replied instantly as he stepped away. However, Francis saw the hesitancy flash upon his face for a brief minute as he weighed the outcome of letting the snow fall upon Ciel as he talked to his Aunt. There would be no doubt in both of their minds that Ciel would most likely find himself buried under pile of snow before he would find the energy to care.

Still, she simply shooed him away with a wave of her gloved hand, silently assuring him that this would end quickly. Well, as quick as she hoped it would. So the butler retreated, a few feet away, like a lingering shadow in the background.

Francis sighed and proceeded to stand next to the curled lad, wordlessly choosing the correct phrases and words she would use for this conversation. It had been increasingly hard to talk to the boy. It wasn't for the lack of trying. After the incident, Francis had tried her best to keep in touch with him with the fear that Ciel would simply slip away into his dreary mansion to kill himself. Each day she woke she dreaded getting a message from Sebastian of Ciel's untimely demise due to whatever circumstances her erratic mind with brew up for a day. Sometimes she thought he may kill himself by simply drowning himself in the bathtub, or jumping from the roof, or drinking poison, or stabbing himself with a dagger, or putting a bullet through his head, or...or...

But, he hasn't. And she is relieved. However, as she watches him now, she cannot say she is proud. He still sits there shivering, facing Lizzy's cold, dead tombstone, motionless and wordless. Sometimes, she's not sure he's even breathing. He simply stares, blinks, and mutely resigns himself to this state for an inane number of hours.

And then, he does something curious. Slowly and silently, he brings forth his gloved hands close to his face and stares. Francis isn't sure what to make of it. But he continues until his right begins to pick at the gloves on his left, pulling each glove finger off in a meticulous manner. He does the same to his right hand, before staring at his bare hands once more. The staring begins to unnerve her. He doesn't blink. He simply stares and stares and stares.

It is quick, his movement. Suddenly she finds his bare, pale little hand pressed against the cold stone of Lizzy's tomb. He begins methodically tracing it, fingers softly caressing upon her name as if it feeling Braille. It was as if he were caressing a face, trying his best to remember the shape, the feel, the warmth.

"Ciel?"

And then Ciel releases his breath, a cloud of hot condensation forming in front of his face. Still he does not stop. He only speeds up faster, fingers fluttering about tracing her name again and again. He traces the chiseled stone as though he is caressing a lover. It is soft and sweet, full of love and sadness. And he is left unsatisfied.

"...Lizzy," he whispers out to himself, confusing the Marchioness even more. Really, she is not sure what to make of what she is seeing. What exactly is he doing? So she carries on and stares for a moment, almost astonished when Ciel manages to edge closer. He is huddled in front of the grave stone now, almost rocking back and forth on his heels. He brings a tentative hand closer once more, two fingers aloft to trace the date of her death. The other begins to absentmindedly run across his mouth in repetitive motions. Two fingers brush against his dried, cracked lips again and again. It's almost maddening to watch.

"Ciel," she bites out with more force than necessary, only if it would steer his attention away. And it does, for the most part. He flinches once more and blinks owlishly up at her, eyes wide and confused. It was truly the only time he's ever noticed his Aunt arrived at all. But he doesn't withdraw his hand away from the cold stone. He merely stares at her, wide eyes and mute. "This isn't healthy," she whispered back as she slowly bought herself to her knees to talk to him at eye level. "None of this is healthy."

Ciel cocks his head to the side, entirely to stiff of a movement that it almost enrages the Marchioness. He continues to be hollow and mute as if to say, 'Healthy?' His hand does not leave the stone and his two fingers continue to flutter away, tracing and tracing the date as though it wasn't his hand at all. And perhaps it was not. Perhaps. But continues to trace before his hand comes into a gut wrenching stop. Then he begins to tap, his pointer finger incessantly tapping against the stone in repetitive intervals. Tap tap tap. And he breaths. Tap tap tap.

"Stop it," the Marchioness insists as concern washes into her face. It is striking on the Marchioness who has always exuded a trained, stern and proper face. How curious. And slowly she brings a gloved hand forward, reaching for Ciel's frozen hand and covering it with her own. Her hand is warm and dry against his and it is entirely too foreign. But he does nothing but watch as she purses her lips and sighs. "Glove your hands boy," she gestures to the gloves he's forgotten on the ground, "before your fingers fall off from frost bite."

She hands him the gloves, half shoving them into his open palm impatiently. The irked expression he has grown accustomed to as a teenager began to blossom on her face when she realized that Ciel was not moving. "Ciel, don't make this harder than what it's supposed to be," she quipped shortly before taking the gloves and placing them back on his hands. She succeeded on placing his left gloves back but Ciel quickly withdrew his right, returning it back into the tombstone almost stubbornly.

There is that certain gleam in his eye, as if silently challenging her to stop him. Francis couldn't help but sigh in annoyance. So she sits back and watches, trying to make sense of whatever confounding notion her nephew is on that would remotely justify his actions. Biting her lip, she comes up only one conclusion. He is much like her little brother Vincent.

While extraordinarily close to his appearance, it is in the way that Ciel holds himself that reminds Francis of her dear brother. Vincent was a soft spoken, calm gentleman. He spoke right, he acted right, and he was so sickeningly kind. Their father would call his children an odd little pair; a Ying and Yang. Where Francis was outspoken and blunt, Vincent was reserved and introverted. Where Francis was blond, had sun-kissed skin and rather muscled, Vincent was lanky, pale and quite delicate. And on the inside Francis had a soft, sensitive heart, Vincent's was...broken.

Now skip decades after and she cannot help but marvel at how their children grew to be just the same, just like their parents. Just like Francis and Vincent. So her eyes soften into a sad, sad gleam as she places a soft hand to pat Ciel's head. Silently, she traces the side of his face with her fingers and finds that he is shivering much more than before. Oh, Ciel, my poor, poor, poor little nephew. Just like her dear, dear, dear little brother.

"You look so much like your father," she says aloud out of wonder. Ciel does not react. He simply turns himself to her, giving her his full attention. She supposes that's better. But...Ciel positions himself again, into yet another disturbing movement. She looks down slightly to see that Ciel has his elbows braced on his knees, his gloved hand fluttering against his lip and the other still tracing the smooth cold stone. His head bowed and shoulders are hunched forward as he rocked back and forth on his heels ever so slightly.

"Lizzy looks like you," he says matter-of-factly. He dared not to look up, keeping a lone cerulean eye downcast in fear of watching his Aunt's expression. He is always threading carefully with Francis, afraid that perhaps he would say the wrong thing and she would go away. Just like everybody else.

Except the Marchioness was a stubborn woman. She would not be deterred so easily just because her nephew was emotionally constipated and certainly very unplugged from reality. So she continues to caress his face almost mother like, slightly wondering if Ciel had ever received any form of motherly love after the incident. And deep in her heart, she knew that he did not. He was deprived of so much. He continues to be starved. And perhaps, it was her fault. She glances at the repetitive way he continues to trace the tombstone and cracks a steely smile. "I always believed she surpassed my own beauty a long time ago."

Still Ciel stays nothing, perhaps wondering what to say next. That awkward moment of silence passes between them and it's beginning to unnerve Francis. She glances at his disturbing habit once more and wonders exactly how many times he has done this before. This tracing motion has become a stringent habit. A very rigid, disturbing and saddening habit. "Now then," she tries to say calmly, "why don't we continue our way to the Mansion hm? It's best we don't chill ourselves here for too long. Come now." She almost cooed at him, as though she was dealing with a child.

But Ciel's head suddenly snapped up and he stared gaping at her like a fish. His mouth opened for a brief moment, lips twitching as if trying to say a word. His breathing accelerates faster and faster, pupils constricting as he stares hard at her. Francis was sure he would suffer another panic attack. And she's not quite sure why.

The steady tracing stopped and he firmly placed a palm against the stone before clearly shaking his head to disagree. And finally Francis understood. His face almost screams it actually.

'You're asking me to leave her.'

He's turned ghastly white at the thought. He can't. He can't. He can't. He's learned a few things after spending a few months away from her. He can't stand it. He can't stand not being physically near her presence. He can't stand that he can't see her smile and how her brilliant emerald eyes would sparkle all the time. He can't stand that he can't hear her laugh or call his name or just talk happily about his days. He can't stand that he's deprived of all of that and must content himself with a sad, cold desolate tomb surrounded by white snow. He can't. He can't do it.

"I'm not telling you to do anything large Ciel," Francis says steadily as she places both hands on his shoulders in a mild effort to steady him and gain his attention. "I am merely asking you to think about your own health. Staying in this cold weather for far too long is not good for you. I don't want to find my nephew turned into a human ice cube and died of frost bite." She says it as simple as she can, hoping to get her message across.

But he says nothing and it frustrates her to no end. She doesn't understand how or why Ciel was suddenly so withdrawn. He was an introverted individual clearly devoted to his work, but Ciel was charming and charismatic when need be. Sighing she adds, "This is a poor way of spending your birthday Ciel. Lizzy would have wanted you to celebrate it."

And Ciel flinches and begins to sob.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"When did he start exhibiting strange behavior?" Francis blurts out just as Sebastian closes the door to the Master's Bedroom. She is straight to the point and won't tolerate anything less, especially when a revalation such as this comes at such an inappropriate time. So she stands, arms crossed opposite his door wearing the same hard, stern face she wears when she clearly finds something unacceptable.

In a way, Sebastian respects this human. Francis is a warrior in her own right, bearing the wave of strife time and time again and coming out stronger than ever. She is a pure soul, Sebastian finds, who cannot be easily tainted. Conceivably, Sebastian finds her delicious. She is a soul that is begging, weeping, crying to be tainted. And he always enjoyed a challenge.

"Strange behavior? Perhaps you could care more to elaborate Marchioness, for my own sake?"

She clicks her tongue, green eyes piercing daggers at him. "When did he start to become mute?! When did he start to curl in a ball like that?! For god's sake, when did he start doing those strange motions?!" She almost begins to yell when she catches the certain confused look in Sebastian's face and tries to elaborate further, " those motions! Those...those...the tracing, the tapping, the lip caressing!"

"Ah...," Sebastian whispers. "those are the side effects of his medicine madam. The doctor prescribed him medicine recently to combat the insomnia he's been experiencing. And another was given for his depression. It would be mixed with his tea. The doctor said it would elevate his mood."

"Medicine?"

"Certainly Marchioness, for his insomnia and depression."

For once the Marchioness is thoroughly stumped. It is not every day that someone could leave her so stunned she could produce nothing more to say and merely be reduced to staring. How is it that no one has told her about this? How is it that she only heard about this now? How is it that she continued to call weekly for a progress report on Ciel's behavior and to never receive such news? How is that even possible?

"Wha...I...When did this...?"

"Two months ago."

"T-t...?!" she choked on her own saliva. Two months. Two months of not knowing. Two months of blind ignorance. Where the hell was she?! What was she doing!? Shaking her head in disbelief, she almost had to keep herself from crying. She wasted so much time. She wasted so much time moping about the manor, with an air of self importance and running about trying to find ways to distract herself. She was well aware that this is how she coped. This is how she tried to grasp for some semblance of control in her life. She's been busy trying to keep Edward's chin up, coaxing him to return to his studies, his swordplay, his interests. She's been on the verge of practically shoving her husband out the door, forcing him to bond with Edward, read a book, take a leisurely stroll in the garden, and whatnot. She's been so busy keeping incessantly weeping Paula sane, comforting her and crying alongside her. She's been so busy keeping the staff limber and busy, trying to ease the depression that has clearly settled in her home. She's been so busy.

So busy in fact, she failed to notice that gloom that she's fought so hard against had permanently seeped itself into her poor nephew's mind. She's forgotten about him yet again. Just like...just like...god damn it. She failed him. "Vincent would never forgive you for this," her mind viciously hisses, "You left his only son, his only child, alone again. Because you never cared. Because you were selfish. Because you couldn't be strong enough. You are a monster."

Sebastian watched with mild interest as the Marchioness practically withered in front of him. Gone was the strong imposing woman that stood before him as the Marchioness just broke. Her arms wove around herself shivering as she curled closer to herself, her cheeks dusting red and eyes brimming with tears. An array of emotion passed through her face until it was a pool of confusion, anger, disgust, self-loathing, and hesitance. But, as she pursued her lips and blinked away her tears, she straightened herself into a full stance. Back came the glorious warrior.

"I want you to get him re-examined again," she said breaking through the thin quiver of her voice, "by five other certified doctors. Get the best Sebastian. I want the results within this week." She barely gave him another glance as she stared hard at the oaken doors that separated her from her nephew. "For now, please prepare the dining hall to celebrate Ciel's birthday. Lizzy would have wanted him to celebrate it. You have an hour."

She didn't bother to acknowledge the quipped reply Sebastian gave along with a courteous bow. All she focused on now was how she was going to handle this situation. Forcing herself to move she shuffled forward until her hand was placed against the brass doorknob. Taking a deep breath she took a tentative knock.

"Ciel?"

Peeking inside, she found Ciel mindlessly fiddling with scarf that was still around his neck. He sat, huddled against the headboard of his bed, a warm blanket draped over his shoulders staring into the withering embers of the fireplace.

"Aunt Francis," Ciel croaks out making Francis wince at how dried and cracked his voice was. "I..I should apologize for my behavior earlier. It was...I was..." He takes a moment to recollect his thoughts, trying to justify his sudden outburst earlier. He hasn't sobbed that long for a good number of weeks. It was humiliating really, to break down in front of Aunt Francis like that. He felt the shame flare once more as she reached his bedside and sat down next to him.

However, his Aunt merely pats his head. "We all lose control sometimes," she simply says. He nods and says nothing else. It is simply to awkward to say anything else. While he admires and respects his Aunt, he never held a close relationship with her. She had always been distant. Distant but constant. And he was okay with that in a way, for she was often quite overbearing and had an ingrained and true moral compass so different from his own. It was so flawed.

"I have a present for you," Francis says gently. She produces in her bag a simple wrapped present, covered in sky blue paper and white lace tied with a ribbon. It was simple but elegant and tasteful, a true choice for the Marchioness. She presents the gift to him silently, placing it on his lap and smiling gently.

She watches as Ciel stares at it as though a child who has receive a gift for the first time. He begins to pick at it carefully, turning it around and around to examine as though it would blow up any moment. This is the childish side of Ciel that she had the pleasure to see when she was a child. "Go on, open it," she coaxes.

And he does, slowly unraveling the ribbon and picking at the wrapping paper, careful not to rip or tear it. Honestly, it reminds of her of the days, many many years before when Francis and Vincent were children themselves. They sat at their father's feet, their mother contently watching them from a cushioned chair near the fire, as they opened their first Christmas gift. Francis, always the impatient girl, had ripped through hers so quickly due to excitement. Vincent on the other hand took his time, relishing the advent of getting a gift, that he neatly unraveled his ribbon and folded the wrapping paper to set aside. She had gotten a sword. He had gotten a book.

She remembers laughing aloud when Vincent unveiled his book, taunting him on how utterly boring his present was compared to her. In a way, she deserved the hard smack of the book's cover against her young cherubic face as Vincent, clearly upset that she dared taunt his present, proceeded to tear up as he smacked her again. "It is not boring!" he had cried out. Of course she had retaliated, launching herself against him with a fist in hand. Needless to say, their parents had a hard time pulling the toddlers apart. Both of them received punishment for improper decorum. All in all, it was a remarkable Christmas.

And now, here she sits, watching Vincent's boy open his own present. Needless to say it was a book. And while Ciel hadn't expected anything less, he turned to give her a strained smile and say his thanks. It was clear that he had appreciated the gesture, though he clearly had no need for a book in the first place. So, he clutches it near him making a mental note to start it tonight before he went to sleep. As he starts to fold the wrapping paper, a small laugh catches him by surprise.

He turns, shocked and almost scared to his Aunt who has a hand covering her mouth as she chuckles gently. It's a soft thing, kind of like Lizzy's. And this is where he finds the resemblance striking. Her voice is as whimsical as her daughters when she laughs. So he stares and stares and stares. Because it has been a long time. A long long long time.

"Perhaps you could take a look at it now?" Francis pushes, causing his gaze to drop to the book on his lap. It doesn't look so remarkable. It is leather bound, a deep brown color, tied with a cord string. There is a little charm, a fairy hanging off like a piece of decoration. And he supposes, this was a book intended for a girl. Perhaps it was Lizzy's favorite book. So, he goes on, unraveling the cord string and opening the book.

The first page catches him off guard. It's a picture of Lizzy. A very cherubic Lizzy, with big bright emerald eyes, soft golden hair, a surprised expression and swaddled in a silk blanket cuddled close to her mother's bosom. She looks like she was 6 months old here. She's adorable. So Ciel stares because he was sure he's never seen his picture before. Oh...she's adorable.

"If we were to have a child," a small meek voice whispers in his head, "she would look like this. She would look this perfect." And he suddenly feels the pining come back. Because he could have achieved this. He could have created his family with her. He could have a beautiful wife, a beautiful child, and an actual home. At least...at least for a while. And he would relish it. He would remember it, even as Sebastian devours his soul. He would remember it.

But...

"I thought you would like it," his Aunt's voice cuts through his thoughts like ice, "I don't think you've ever seen this photos before." She is the one that is staring now. She's assessing his expression, trying to gauge on his reaction. She's almost worried. He's not sure what he would do. Would he like it? Would it make him remember worse memories? Has she pushed too much?

But she is clearly surprised when a small smile forms. And for the first time in a long time, Ciel genuinely says, "Thank you."

And she is delighted. Because there is hope. There is hope for redemption. She is sure now that Ciel can get through this, that he can certainly heal. So, before she breaks the moment any further, she excuses herself to check on the dinner preparations. Ciel does not catch the hesitancy that forms on her face as she reaches in her bag once more to produce a small little box wrapped in baby pink and a white ribbon. Still, slowly and silently she leaves it next to the boy who buried himself in his new gift and leaves the room.

Ciel only notices the small package, a box the size of his palm, ten minutes after his Aunt excuses herself. It is only through sheer luck does his leg numb under him and he is forced to stretch his limbs, causing the box to tumble into the floor. Curious, he picks himself out of his bed and fetches it over, he catches the small little tag wrapped around the ribbon. His heart stops beating.

In small cursive letters is Lizzy's handwriting.

"For my beloved Ciel."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sebastian is impeccable to giving attention to the minor details. Details are the key to success. He's banished Bard into the dining room along with the other servants. He trusted them to do the decorations, knowing full well they would tangle themselves into a web of banners and glitters before putting any sort of decoration up. But at least they were out of the way. Quickly and systematically, he follows the planned checklist in his head, noting that most of the preparations where done, with ten minutes to spare.

"Ciel!" the Marchioness's shout rings through the building and uproots Sebastian from his work. And he thunders away, locating the source of the noise right away. He finds himself in the Master Bedroom in a flash, bursting through only to find the Marchioness on the floor, arms wrapped tightly around Ciel who had curled himself into another tight ball. He's shivering and quaking, rocking back and forth, one hand grasping the root of his hair and the other close to his neck.

"Young Master?" Sebastian ventures to ask.

"Ciel stop it!" Francis screamed as she tried to pry his hands away. It was only then when Sebastian realizes that his finger tips were tinged with blood. Crouching low, he discovers a painful sight. Amid the constant twitching that Ciel's body makes, his other hand makes his way to his throat, his long white fingers picking compulsively at the skin. The skin was bleeding, red and bruised all over as if Ciel couldn't make the choice whether to strangle or cut himself. "Stop it!" Francis hissed once more, grabbing hold of his other hand.

Ciel's head lolls forward almost in a trace, one cerulean eye looking dazed and unsteady than ever before. His closed lips were pressed in a tight line, trembling hard, that it was clear he was on the verge of sobbing. His eyelid was twitching rapidly and he shakes his head side to side as if it would deter the tears.

"Lizzy," he croaks out in a shaky breath, "sh-she's not answering me. She won't t-talk to me."

"Young Master, calm yourself," Sebastian reiterates as he takes hold of his shoulders to steady him once more, "take deep breaths."

And Ciel chuckles, hard and hollow. "Lizzy's always calm...always calm...she is." His voice is almost dream like, as though he is seeing something that neither Sebastian nor Francis could fathom. And then his gaze darts hard left, centered close to the fire place just behind Sebastian. He feels Ciel go rigid against him, before his eyes start widening more and more.

"Young Master!"

"Ciel!" Francis is close to hysterics. The prim and proper lady she held herself to be was merely stripped away, revealing how utterly lost she was. She didn't know what to do about him. But she holds him down, feeling Ciel's sudden burst of energy sudden grab hold of him as he wrestles his hands away from her grasp. "Ciel please!" she cries out of surprise when Ciel's muscle strength suddenly doubles.

"Young Master! Calm yourself!"

Ciel lets out a weak groan, before suddenly choking behind his throat. Out of desperation, his body arches back for a moment, throwing his weight against a bewildered Francis as he bit back a scream. He bit hard enough to split his bottom lip brings his hands forward, cupping his face, trying to make him relax and remove tension away from his oozing lip.

Then the screaming starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. Haha. Wow, it's finally done. I'm almost surprised.
> 
> Well, actually, I'm willing to bet many people would want me to continue from here. But you know, I'm very okay with cliffhangers such as this. Mostly because, I like speculating on how it would have ended on my own terms. But of course, I know many people aren't fans of this kind of ending. So...please comment and review whether or not you would like me to post an epilogue or sorts for an ending. Also, what did you guys think about me ending it this way? I bet not a lot of you guys are fans. Haha.
> 
> So...uh...yeah. I suppose I should explain now, why I chose this specific ending. Well, I spent a great deal of time catering to psychiatric patients when I was rotated into the psych unit in the hospital. And after speaking to quite a number of people, I found that the three factors that contributed to their mental illness were three large reasons; Poor coping mechanisms, Lack of support either from family or friends, and a traumatic love life. The trauma of their 'love life' (or rather lack of) these patients experienced were all very different but I found that it was literally their greatest triggering factor. And so I thought, why can't this be Ciel's breaking point?
> 
> If you spell it out, Ciel literally is one of those characters that is riddled with problems. He has very poor coping strategies, uses very obvious defense mechanisms, and practically isolates himself from the rest of the world. It is understandable why Sebastian finds him absolutely delicious. But Ciel anchors himself because he wants revenge. However, I truly believe that what is keeping him partially anchored is the fact that he still has that piece of his life that gives him support. No matter how many times he may push it away, love is that glorious little thing that comforts people as we are very social creatures. So if you take away that glue, then reality sets in and gravity pulls that anchor deeper into the dark. Honestly, Ciel's fragile psyche just needed a little nudge into that direction.
> 
> But, you may point out, Ciel seemed quite alright talking to Aunt Francis a while ago. How could such a change suddenly even happen? Well, you know, speaking to people with mental illnesses is a very confusing thing sometimes. Most times, they can hold such a simple conversation it was as if they weren't sick at all. And then, it breaks. Sometimes it's small and sometimes it's big. I've had patients spit, cry, shout, break out into song, and flash body parts while I was speaking to them out of nowhere. Well at least that was how my experience was. But you must remember, every single action they do has a reason. And while it may make no sense why they do it, there is always a reason. So yeah, hope I cleared up some stuff.
> 
> Once again, thank you very much for reading Contrition. I truly did enjoy writing this fic and feel the immense satisfaction of finally ending a story I've been twiddling around in my head for about a year now. So thank you for the readers who read, favorited, and reviewed this work. You guys are awesome. Sorry for any mistakes I made on spelling, grammar, and such. English really isn't my first language. For any questions, feel free to leave a review or message me.
> 
> Troublesome_monkey_sama signing out.


	7. Alternate Ending #1 - Slipping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm…Hello to you all, beautiful readers. This is Troublesome-monkey-sama signing in.
> 
> Now, I really thought I wrapped up this story a long long time ago. Truly, I thought I finished this story. But apparently I'm not yet as done as I had hoped?
> 
> So now that I'm done with college and packing all my things, a friend of mine who faithfully read all my drafts of the story found notes on the endings I drafted on the back of a couple of my old notes. I have forgotten about it and honestly, I have no idea where she even found it. However, after reading through it, she promptly visited me and smacked me in the face because apparently I was "depriving readers of a respectable ending." And after literal months of her nagging, I will be releasing the three other alternate endings that I drafted. These endings can stand on their own or they can actually be seen as one other alternate ending.
> 
> However, I feel I must address this first. You may notice that my writing may be different from when I wrote Contrition a year ago. I'm terribly sorry about that. During that time, I was in an enormous amount of stress and I used that as a leverage to pour all that nasty feelings into this tragic mess of a story. However, as I write this now, I am currently living as a sluggy potato freshly graduated and basking in the sudden nothingness of my schedule. I don't feel nearly as stressed out as I did, which will reflect these upcoming pieces. So I must apologize in advance to the sudden change in syntax and pacing you may trample on.
> 
> Ahem, on that note, thank you to all of you who faithfully read this obscure little angsty story of mine. And here is the first alternative ending to this story for you all to enjoy. Please tell me what you think and thank you again.

The cold hits Ciel before he has the time to recoil back. It begins with a steady trickle down his pale, curved back brushing past porcelain skin in small streams as they break and flow towards the ground. His pasty skin erupts in goosebumps at the first contact, his body shuddering at the cold and automatically closing himself into a ball to preserve his inner warmth. His arms immediately weave themselves around his legs, effectively cocooning himself away from the icy contact. He hears the water slosh before he feels it, finding the unwelcome torrent of cold and wet hit is face before he could utter anymore words of protest.

He lets out a groan of protest when he feels Sebastian drag a cold – icy – towelette down from his neck to his scapula, scrubbing just hard enough for him to wince at the rough material against his skin. Sebastian pays him no mind, one gentle palm on his head and the other scrubbing away at the back of his neck as though he finds a particularly nasty grime that has bested his efforts of keeping clean. Ciel spares him another whine of protest when Sebastian ignores his dismaying howls as he kneels closer in, fingers almost prattling across the top of his head as though he was too tempted to simply push Ciel's face into the icy bath in hopes the lad would suffocate to death. Perhaps it would give him just one precious moment of silence.

"Couldn't you bother to actually heat the water before you drop me in?!" Ciel finally hisses as he untangles one hand from his own embrace and effectively smacks Sebastian's wandering hands away from his body. "It's too cold!"

Sebastian pays him no mind as he sloshes the boy with another pail full of cold water and gives him a wry smile. "It at a perfectly reasonable temperature when I first called you to take your bath, Young Master. However, despite my urging you still insisted for another minute of brooding before I was forced to drag you into the tub myself." He sends him a sardonically critical stare, quipping silently that he was in no mood to entertain Ciel's mopping nor was he in any position to defend his young master's penchant of completely ignoring personal hygiene in the presence of his own noble relatives. So he does what he must, if only to preserve the already breaking image of his young charge for just a bit longer.

The scowl Ciel sends his way is neither discomforting nor terribly funny to see. Ciel was far too enveloped in his own crude world to even begin thinking of such simplicities such as personal hygiene. Disgusting as it may be, he suddenly finds that he hates taking a bath every day. It is the most time consuming activity he does now. He hates how he cannot physically make the activity go any faster than it already is. He hates how no matter how much he scrubs and rubs himself into a frenzy, Sebastian's tsking would send him right back to be 'properly washed.' As though, suddenly, there was a protocol to be followed for properly cleaning one's self. Rubbish. He hates it. God, he can't even begin to explain why he hates it.

He hates how Sebastian has the compulsive need to be there when he cleans himself. It is nothing sexual – at least he thinks though he can't be bothered to think about it – but rather it was because Sebastian just seems to think he can't do it by himself. He hates how the scents that he uses are too floral and fruity for his tastes, but he cannot find the words to refuse them because it smells far too much like her and its addicting. And most of all, he hates – detests with all of his broken wretched heart - how it takes his time away from her.

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Four months. Four months since that despicable incident – accident his mind quips silently like a mournful sigh in the back of his ear – when Lizzy was tarnished and resigned to become a vegetative statue situated in a large, white canopy bed. Four months of hopelessness. Four months of dismissive silence. Four months of nothingness.

It scares Ciel, more than he would ever admit in his life because he is beginning to think that this woman, this girl in front of him is reduced to nothing more but a shell of what was once was. He's terrified to think that perhaps, perhaps Lizzy as really left that day. That somehow, confounded it all but somehow; her soul slipped past her lithe, battered remains that day and refused to settle back in. And she just left this thing here, this shell of a forgotten person that only few care over. He has a hard time swallowing that particular pill. But has he stares down at her pale, far too skinny reflection, he finds himself staring at another person.

Four months can change an immobile body. Lizzy's beautiful blonde mane has grown coarse and dry, overgrown and braided daily to keep out of her face. She's far too skinny, too little, too fragile now. She's not getting her nutrients, her proteins, her fats. She's not eating well. She's not eating at all really. And if Ciel could, he would become her stomach and intestines and blood if it meant she would gain just a pound. Her muscles turned flaccid, despite their daily exercises. She needs to move, to walk to run, to skip and to jump. Yet, Ciel despairs she could not while he – him with his nimble willow of a broken body – could do so much he wishes she could. Her beautiful skin, once soft and supple, once peppered blue and black and purple and red has finally settled into a dry ash from the lack of moister. Taking one careful, tentative finger he brushes past her lips and cringes away like a scurrying spider. Her lips are chapped far too dry. Lizzy never had chapped, dry lips. Never.

Paula tries her best to fix her, applying ointments and lotions into her skin like a ritual. Every day, she comes with a hesitant smile holding baskets of products she lathers Lizzy with as though she was a child she had the honor to protect from the harmful sun. Yet the creams, the liquids, the ointments do not work as Lizzy's skin devours everything. It absorbs, absorbs, absorbs and Ciel think that it is ravenous for more. He is desperate to please her form, despite being far too cowardly to leave her. So he implores Sebastian and Paula to search and search and search. Find her that magic elixir that brings forth all the warmth, sun, and joy back into her broken body. Find it. Find it! Find it!

There is no change. She is shriveling up in his eyes.

The sight scares him the most. It makes the color – at least what was left that showed tale-tell signs of his humanity – wash away from his face as the blood pools into his heart as though it was trying to convince him to go on. He must, he must go on and continue to live if only to watch her awaken from this cruel faith.

He'll do it. He shall stay and rot in this hell for her, if only to watch her open those eyes again and allow him a taste of the heaven he's found himself deprived of.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes, Ciel forgets that he is in this cursed, rotten hell of a life he's made for himself. Sometimes, when he settles in a surprisingly warm bath – as he conceded earlier to Sebastian's demands than usual – and lulls himself to sleep in a cocoon of warmth as Sebastian tries to tame his overgrown hair dripping around his disturbed cranium.

In these moments for silence, he finds himself wondering of what ifs and if thens. As Sebastian finally pulls him from the water and dresses him, impeccably he might add, he wonders idly of what his schedules is today and if he actually managed to keep in track of this month's goals. He wonders idly what is for breakfast or brunch, what was blown up in the kitchen, and what chandelier must be replaced this time due to Meyrin's ministrations. He wonders what miserable flowers, cut far too close to the bud, did Finny attempt to display in the dinner table. He wonders if Snake found a respectable place to house his snakes because they are certainly not allowed under the dinner table. He even wonders how Tanaka, bless that old fool, was doing this morning as he knew his arthritis often made the man wince despite his best ways of concealing his pain. He needs to ask Sebastian to make the man some herbal tea that may remedy his pain until they can get that doctor he's been eyeing from Switzerland of all confounded places.

And perhaps most of all, he wonders where Lizzy is. She's probably in her room, primping and priming about to make herself look 'pretty' as she says. Personally, Ciel prefers Lizzy bare faced, dressed plainly with her hair limp and flopping behind her. She looked far more human and far Lizzier than she ever was in his eyes. And she's beautiful regardless. Of course, has there ever been a time where she was not?

He dismisses that thought almost bashfully as he finally opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings. And he's rather surprised to see cream walls, white wood, marble and wood. This isn't his manor. His minds clicks regrettably slow and he makes it a point not to embarrass himself any further as Sebastian finishes his look by placing his eye patch on carefully as though he had just completed yet another work of art. And perhaps he had, trying to make a regretfully broken boy look terribly unbroken and primped to puppet his way into society as a functional young adult. Truly, he has set a busted masterpiece.

The question flies out of his mouth before he can get a true hold of himself. "Where is Lizzy?" he asks aloud as he crosses the threshold and flounces out of Lizzy's bathroom, hearing the satisfying click of his heels against marble floors.

"Young Master –" Sebastian begins, scurrying after him in haste without making too much of a mess at his wake. Except even Sebastian is too slow as Ciel drinks in the sight of her in the bed, allowing reality and all its cruel glory wash upon him once more.

"Oh," a breathy whisper leaves his dulling mouth as he stares. There she is. There she is in all her glory – emaciated, shriveling and dying all at once.

Oh.

"Ciel –"

"Of course," Ciel catches himself quickly from slipping, mouth twitching and threatening to lower downwards into a permanent frown before he hitches out a shaky breath and begins again. "Yes, of course. Lizzy…she needs to do her exercises soon."

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ciel finds that he hates the night the most. The darkness of the night sky brings forth another sense of fright far more lethal than the dose he tampers with on a daily basis. It is in the night, when he finally succumbs into a fitful sleep where nightmares pepper his tired mind. In some twisted, achingly bizarre and satisfying way, he has grown accustomed to the bombardment he receives each night. As he pushes their beds together and curls himself around her lithe, little from he dreams of fragmented forms and ghostly smiles. He dreams of her cries, shouts and disgust. He dreams of her vibrant, vibrant emerald eyes piercing through him until finally, finally it succumbs into the darkness and he is left alone. He is left pitifully alone. The darkness is suffocating. It is maddening. And he feels like he's dying.

He almost always wakes up screaming. He screams bloody murder, unable to control his own vocal cords until his voice is a hoarse, cracked, shattered thing tinged with the taste of blood and regret. As his body bold upright, twisting sheets and blankets to pool around his waist, he almost always searches blindly for her as he tries to catch his labored breathing. Anguish. It is the rush of that terrible emotion that makes him tremble even more as his shaking hands blindly search for hers, grasping her close to his chest and pressing sweet kisses against her white, cold knuckles.

There is cold irrational fear churning inside him, filling every corner of his body until he is twisting and curling away from the familiar, cold numbness that sneaks into his core and ascending and descending to and fro through his blood until it finally holds a grip on his poor beating heart. He's not sure how much he can take of it, being swallowed by fear, but his wrecked body seems to weather another blow as it shivers and tingles in cold sweat. His chest tightens, his legs turn into jelly and he grabs hold into her one hand and curls it fully into his own palms like a lifeline. Bloodshot eyes take in the expanse of her dark bedroom which was splattered with shadows and inked with cruel unforgiving silence.

Yet, he notices none of these as he can only be certain about two things. He cannot live without her and he must live to see her. So he tries to rewire his brain to operate the simple tasks such as breathing and speaking. Except he always finds that his lungs are too taut, his airway is too narrow, he is producing far too much mucus and saliva and he has lost any sense of ability to coherently form a sentence. He doesn't need to talk though. He just needs to check.

So he brings a fearful gaze to her pale, ashen face and almost throws himself at her in all of his haste. His face hovers dangerously close to hers, skirting close to chest. He hardly notices, rejoicing at the feeling of warm breath and small sighs that emanate from her little form. He waits, prolonging his agony for more of those precious moments when he feels her little breath fan across his shivering cheek. Slowly, silently he huddles even closer as shaking fingers dance up her dainty wrist and press hard against her pulse.

Oh, she's alive. She's alive. She's still alive.

The relief hits him in waves and he could only let out a groan as the adrenaline that pumped his system begins to wane and he could finally learn to breathe once more. He doesn't even feel his body giving out beneath him as his skinny jelly legs give into the tired pulses of relief that pump through him. Sagging, he literally falls on top of her small still frame and simply buries his sweating face against the crook of her neck.

This close proximity is enough to for him to finally feel the rise and fall of her chest. It is enough. Glancing up to peer into her face, he slowly picks himself away from truly crushing her. Her face hasn't changed expression, always blank and serene as though she was simply sleeping away despite the lack of warmth her usual face presented. Still, as he brings himself to her side, he does not dare depart for her presence. He was too afraid to leave her, feeling the need to press his skin against hers in fear that somehow she would depart from him if he does. So he stays and he breaths, trying to calm himself enough as he watches her form.

It is also in his close proximity he finds that he could study her face without complain. While pale and unassuming, he finds the little things he barely noticed before. He finds the beauty mark hidden behind her left earlobe utter adorable and he fingers it gently wondering why he never noticed it before. He finds that her baby hairs, cute blonde independent and stubbornly pushing up to be endearing to look at. And on more than particular occasion, his attention is stuck on her lips. He finds it odd that it's so unnaturally dry because he has never once seen Elizabeth without pretty pink pouty kissable lips. Now, the annoyance of it all was staring at him right in the face. It can actually happen.

Before he closes his eyes, he curls his digits around hers and sighs. He has to do something about that abomination soon.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The answer surprisingly comes from Lizzy herself. He finds it randomly three days later when he is left to his own ministrations, with Sebastian off trying to run the business and salvaging the Manor and the Midford family trying to keep false appearances for appearance's sake. Idly, he finds himself looking through her nightstand drawers for a bottle of ink or some sort when he stumbles upon a book decorated in lace, pink fabric and pressed flowers. It is her journal perhaps, probably from her childhood judging from the messy lettering and doodles that littered the pages. He is far too bashful to really delve in them, fearing that he has crossed a boundary that Lizzy would be appalled he would even dare look at. Still, he finds within those pages a hastily written recipe she merely called Lip Scrub. The ingredients are rudimentary, but judging from the hearts she had drawn on she seemed to enjoy using it.

So perhaps he could employ it now. Bitterly, he peers up to the excuse of skin that is left on Lizzy's lips. He almost always fights the need to simply pick at the drying, breaking skin so he would be rid of such an annoyance but he refrains knowing full well that he would make his poor fiancée bleed. He inquires Paula about it when she flounces in, somehow managing to delight her all the more as she prattled on about how it was quite useful, tasted rather yummy, and – oh how could she ever forget about such thing when Lady Elizabeth always…

He stops hearing her after a few moments of her drabble, staring almost pitifully at her form and waits patiently for her to finish. While he always praised Paula for having the time, patience and energy to entertain Lizzy as she grew he also forgot how alike the two were. Paula, however, seemed nothing more than a washed-out version of an entirely different entity in Ciel's eyes and he would rather be entertaining a prattling Lizzy than he would a prattling Paula. And while that thought seemed completely cruel and irrational, merely wishing the ill fate of his beloved on another, he will not apologize for it. Not when he feels himself starved for her to the point where he is willing to fix her dwindling appearance so it appeared more as if she were well and still very much with him. Consequently, he keeps his mouth firmly closed because he knew that Lizzy adored Paula to pieces and this perhaps were one of the few times he's seen the woman visibly smile and be excited in months. Thus, he let her be as she finally jumped up giddily from where she was and ran down the hallway to the kitchens were she may acquire the ingredients he asked for.

The scrub was a sticky substance of honey, brown sugar and lemon juice that seemed to work magic on Lizzy's lips. Somehow, as he gently applied the concoction and massaged it in with his finger, it seemed to brush away the dry and cracked annoyance he's been pointedly staring at for the last few weeks. How glorious it was that such a small concoction, born out of pages written by a little girl could result in such beauty. When he finally wiped the sticky film away with a warm wet cloth Paula provided he instantly revels at the sight of moist, pinkish, swollen lips. Without realizing it, he quirks a tentative smile as his fingers dance along the edges of her lower lip, tracing it left and right before caressing her cupid's bow.

"There she is," he breaths out mostly to himself, forgetting quickly that Paula was still in the room with him. He keeps on caressing, wondering how it could suddenly feel so supple again. It should be impossible. It shouldn't make sense but as he caresses skin he feels silk and velvet all at once. Light fingers trace left and right and he suddenly wonders what it would feel like to have those lips against his. They have certainly kissed in the past but it was always on the cheek or the forehead, but never once did they–

He rips his hands away from her in a sudden jolt, remembering quite suddenly that he was most certainly not alone and these thoughts were far too diabolical for him to even entertain given her state. A kiss, an innocent kiss, his mind almost hisses back intent on indulging him on something engaged couples would certainly not be faulted to do. Yet, the thought disturbs him and he quickly turns away, vowing never to let his thoughts wander to that again.

The thought was all too real in his head.

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He slips one night. He slips much further and much darker than he could ever think he could.

It happens a week after when he awakens once more from another broken nightmare that plagues his aching mind. It always happens in the middle of a dark, dreary cold night when even Edward dares not wander the halls because the marble and wooden floors would surely freeze his feet. He opts to visit Lizzie just after dinner and spend his hour simply telling tales and throwing the occasion half-baked insult his way. By this time Ciel does not mind the company for he has long expanded his repertoire of topics he could have chattered on about. Most of his time is now spent caring for her and reading books, so Edward's company was always welcome.

It was just in the dark desolate night when he is truly alone with Lizzy does he succumb to fears so dark he was sure that Sebastian was up in the room merely salivating over his agony. The nightmares always leave him winded, worn and torn to pieces. He's too frightened. He's always too flabbergasted to believe that this is happening and he always turns to Lizzy for comfort. By now he knows this is perhaps the most idiotic thing to do. What comfort could she possibly give when she is the source of all of his pain? What possible comfort could she physically give him when she is a breathing corpse in his grasp?

Nothing. He knows he will get nothing. But he tries anyway because it is all he has left.

"Wake up!" he cries out sullenly as he keeps a firm grasp over her shoulders and almost shakes her in his frustration. Almost because he is far too winded and weak to physically lift her and she looked far too fragile to move around with any sort of brashness. "Please wake up!" he begs once more as he fists her nightdress until he's almost pulling them away from her pale skin. "Please! I beg you! Wake up!" He is almost commanding her to wake from her coma, begging and pleading over and over again.

He can't take it anymore.

"Please….please! I'll do anything for you Lizzy! Please!" He finds himself looming dangerously over her now, straddling her hips in place and pinning her tiny body under his broken one in a desperate plight to rouse her. Understandably, she merely breathes in response.

He responds in kind with hot, bitter tears. He feels the familiar hot liquid escape his eyes and watches as they unceremoniously grace her face, dampening her clothes, neck, and face. Gritting his teeth he leans closer against her and whimpers out, "Must you torture me like this?" He presses his cheek against hers and tries to take a shaky breath. "Forgive me, please! I…I know you must hate me but spare me from his agony Lizzy! P-please?"

He knows this is her revenge. As he shakily sits up he wonders how pitiful he must look now. He knows his state more than anyone but it still manages to strike him on how much influence Lizzy is in his life. She is his sanity. His future. His life. Peering down curiously at her, he wonders slowly how he even let this happen in the first place. Here he was, straddling a comatose girl who showed not a hint of her consciousness for the last four months and he is left staring at her in a state of shock wondering how she managed to make him feel so deplorable and desperate all at once. How?

Lizzy was always a pretty girl. Even now, as she continues to corrode against his better wishes she has managed to still look beautiful in his eyes. He's tried to fix her. He slathers her with lotions, scrubs and oils to make her seem more alive – just like she always was. But even when she is shriveling and drying, she manages to take his heart away. Oh he knows the hypocrisy, he is well aware of the hypocrisy of his statement but he finds that Lizzy is exactly that. She is the damn absurdity, the paradox, that he – for the life of him – could never get rid of.

Now as he stares hard at her, he shockingly finds himself leaning further and further in until he feels the softness of her breath in against his cheek. His gaze is caught automatically into her supple pink lips, scrubbed and lathered to perfection. This whole week Paula and he learned that Lizzy's body seemed to respond well to simple ingredients and they had treated it like a goddess. While her skin, always soft and firm, was not the same as before he was pleased to find it was no longer as ashy or dry. He had resolved to find a way to combat her unnatural paleness next. However, his crowning achieving would always, always be her lips. They were perfect. Curiosity hits him then, like a lightning bolt and he suddenly wonders what exactly it would feel against his.

His lips graze against hers, very softly at first as though they were touching at all. She remains still as she always does and he keeps himself at bay as though he is testing her reaction to his touch. And predictably, she does nothing but it does little to dissuade him now. Somewhere, in the back of his brain where his consciousness may or may not lay he knew that he should have stopped it there. He should have.

He couldn't even dream of doing so when his tongue darts out curiously, cautiously, and moistens her drip lips before pressing against hers more firmly. She tastes sweet; sweet like the sugar scrub he's used on her earlier. "Mmm," he lets out a throaty moan as his body goes slack and he presses himself further against her, unconsciously rocking his hips gently against hers.

He doesn't even register when his hands fly up to cup her face, one hand trailing down as his fingers take a firm hold of her chin and forces her mouth open. The softness of her mouth is almost painful for him, feeling both scorched and scathingly cold all at once. That does not stop his curious tongue from delving into her hot, slick mouth as he melds his lips against hers and devours all he can. He wants more, more, and more. Groaning, he slithers one arm under her head and tilts her head back to gain better access to her mouth.

As their saliva mixes, he is hit with another thought. She was far too delicious and his mouth couldn't even begin to leave hers now. He wanted to kiss her forever. She tasted even better than he imagined she would taste. With a sigh, he pulls back just enough to gulp oxygen to his system. The sight of a string of saliva connecting their mouths was enough to make him shiver and let out another groan. He wants more. He needed more of this. This, whatever this is, he needed more of it. Indulgent and drunk with euphoria, he satisfies his wanton curiosity of her lips and taste by diving back in without another thought. With another roll of his hips, he clings harder into her and tilts her head over so slightly so their lips aligned just as so.

Perfect. This just felt all too perfect.

His illusion is broken by a hasty pull and he lets out an indignant grunt when he feels a claw grab hold of the back of his sweater and give him a sharp tug. His mouth and caressing tongue is wrench away from hers with an audible pop and he is left winded on the hard cold floor before he could even blink.

"Just what do you think you're doing!?" a brash, throaty voice hissed above him and he trails up the hardened stance of the figure facing him to find Edward Midford towering over him looking as though the devil himself had possessed his soul. "Just what in the hell do you think you're doing Phantomhive!?"

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Edward doesn't think he's ever felt this furious in his entire life. He was beyond the astute definition of livid, even as he raises one hard hand and aims a well handed back hand against Ciel's shocked face. Belatedly, he realized that he's actually missed when he hits air and realizes that Ciel had merely leaned back, almost lazily to avoid his aim. In retaliation, the little cretin even does so far as blink up at him curiously before a hard set frown graces his face and he had the audacity to raise an eyebrow as he were intruding on something personal.

The little shit.

Growling menacingly, he could not help the shivering anger that simmers and boils in his stomach. He wants nothing more than to stomp on the boy and stab him like spitfire on a hot hearth if it meant watching the piece of shit burn. Yet, he is still sitting there looking as if he had done something wrong by pulling him away from his little sister to do more unspeakable 'things' with his mouth. He had actually found them in a compromising position in the dead of night doing nasty nasty things he was sure he had imposed on his little sister to never do with Sir Earl Phatomhive. And he was sure Lizzy, bashful innocent little Lizzy, would have been mortified and scared stiff with Ciel had come on to her like that. He was like a lapping dog, moaning in gratification by doing an act so vile that…that –

"What makes you think you even had the right to do that to her?!" he hissed out finally pulling himself taut, jaw tense and arms bought to his side. In this position, even Ciel must admit that Edward was intimidating to watch despite the obvious blush that was blooming his way into his face. "What makes you think you could take advantage of her like that you perverted excuse of a man?!"

Ciel's face settles into a hard glare of his own but he says nothing to defend himself. He knows. He knows more than anyone that he had no right to cross Lizzy's personal boundaries like that. Especially not when she was left bare and open to attack without any means to fight. He knows how twisted it is. Swallowing hard, he breaks eye contact with Edward and brings his gaze the floor. There it was, the hard feeling of shame. He had wondered, belatedly why he didn't feel it when he was moving until he was hit hard in droves with it now. It was pulsing.

"I'm sorry…," he begins only to be cut off by Edward who seemed to have gathered his thoughts.

"I don't want to hear it Phantomhive!" Edward growls back as he moves to cover Lizzy from Ciel's gaze and stomps his foot in frustration. "I told mother and father that you've been out of it and it wasn't healthy to be holed in his room all by yourself with Lizzy! I warned them that it was indecent to have you in her company and look at this! I – I – of course I'm right! Look at what you've done! You would have raped her in her damn sleep you –"

"I would not have raped her –"

"Shut the hell up Phatomhive! I am not in the mood for another damn speech and your sniffling right now you perverse little piece of shit! I am marching up right to mother and father and imploring them to have your ass dragged away from this manor once and for all! You are not allowed to be close to her ever again you p – ngh!"

Edward doesn't know what hit him until he feels clammy hands curl against his wind pipes. His words die instantly from his throat as the pressure builds and he connects the hands curling and pinching his neck dry to Ciel Phantomhive himself. In a sudden shot of adrenaline he grabs hold of Ciel's arms only to find his tight hold curl even tighter in response to his action. He lets out a choked murmur before trashing against his hold, intent on using his weight against the boy who had somehow developed super strength despite his emaciated and broken from. He doesn't understand how he's suddenly like this. He doesn't understand how Ciel is suddenly tight, a muscled form of adrenaline and misery all at once.

"…ckk…," he managed to voice out before his vocal are wiped clean when he realizes he is finally being starved of air. The thought is terrifying enough to trash wildly against this sudden spectator who is more than gleeful enough to curl tight and watch the air be pushed out of him.

"Just…," he hears Ciel's wispy voice creep into his ear, "Just who do you think you are?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then, I think that's a good enough time to stop. Uhm... I don't know what to say about this anymore. I almost feel like I shouldn't be writing this. At the same time, I do look at my notes and wonder why the hell I didn't include them. I don't know. Even more than that, I feel like I could have done this as a new story all together. Like a sequel? But, I hated the idea of ever separating these endings from this main story. They could probably work on their own but what is the point of even having to make a separate story for it when I reference so much from this particular piece. Perhaps it is just me rambling.
> 
> Anyway please excuse my grammar and such mistakes. Someday, I might actually look for a Beta and actually reread and edit my work. But today is not that day.
> 
> And finally, perhaps the most important announcement for my readers is this. I am most likely turning the rating to Rated M because of scenes that are happening later on in this ending that are too graphic to be just Rated T. This one of the reasons why I didn't want to go with this particular alternate ending is because of this change. I wasn't quite sure how readers would take it? But I suppose it doesn't matter now. For those who do not wanted a Rated M scene, I suppose they could stick to Chapter 6 and be done with it because that is the official ending after all.
> 
> Anyway thank you so much for reading and please review. It would mean a lot to get feedback.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so that's the first chapter. So, obviously I have butchered the English language in one chapter alone. The amount of grammar mistakes I made there is laughable. But anyway, like I said, I have dreamt of this fanfiction for ages. And when I mean ages, I mean about a year. I started writing this a while ago and only had the time to write it during Christmas break. Yes, college life does that to you a lot. So hopefully, I get it done before I go back to school. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Please, R and R. I like to read reviews, no matter how insulting or fickle it is. I know I made plenty of mistakes, I don't deny that. But thank you for reading my story regardless. Happy Holidays and Happy New Years!


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